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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

BEQUEST 
OF 

Mrs.  Marian  Hooker 


IDLING  IN  ITALY 


IDLING   IN    ITALY 


STUDIES   OF 
LITERATURE    AND   OF   LIFE 


BY 
JOSEPH  COLLINS 

AUTHOR    OF    "MY    ITALIAN    YEAR 


/  loaf  and  invite  my  soul 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1920 


Offftf 


COPTBIGHT,   1920,  BT 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  September,  1920 
LOAN  STACK 

GIFT 


C<Z5'I 


TO  M.  K.  C. 


.  .  .  Io  vengo  di  lontana  parte, 
Dov'era  lo  tuo  cuor. 


Hf.G 


PREFACE 

Nothing  obstacled  my  pleasure  so  much  when  I 
first  went  to  Italy  as  unfamiliarity  with  its  literature. 
Every  one  who  would  add  to  his  spiritual  stature  and 
his  emotional  equanimity  by  tarry  in  Italy  should 
have  some  intimacy  with  the  Bible,  with  mythology, 
and  with  Italian  writers,  especially  the  poets.  I  sought 
books  about  books  but  was  not  very  successful  in  find- 
ing them.  Interpretative  articles  on  men  and  books 
which  are  so  common  in  British  and  American  litera- 
ture are  exceptional  in  Italy.  One  who  is  ambitious 
to  get  even  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  them  must 
make  the  introduction  himself.  In  1918  an  enter- 
prising Italian,  Signor  A.  T.  Formiggini,  attempted 
to  supply  such  introduction  by  the  publication  of  a 
literary  review  called  U  Italia  Che  Scrive,  a  monthly 
supplement  to  all  the  periodicals.  He  has  had  grat- 
ifying success. 

My  purpose  in  publishing  the  essays  on  fictional 
literature  in  this  volume  is  in  the  hope  of  awakening 
a  larger  interest  in  America  in  Italian  letters  and  to 
aid  in  creating  a  demand  for  their  translation  into 
English.  I  shall  be  glad  if  they  serve  to  orient  any 
one  who  is  bewildered  by  his  first  glance  into  the  maze 
of  Italian  modern,  improvisional  literature.  ' 

Americans  go  to  Italy  by  the  thousands,  but  very 
few  of  them  take  the  trouble  to  acquaint  themselves 
with  her  history  or  with  her  ideals  and  accomplish- 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

ments.  This  is  to  be  regretted,  for  proportionately 
as  they  did  that  their  pleasure  would  be  enhanced  and 
their  profit  increased.  Moreover,  it  would  contribute 
to  better  mutual  understanding  of  Americans  and 
Italians. 

The  remaining  chapters  are  the  outgrowth  of  ex- 
periences and  emotions  in  Italy  during  and  after  the 
war. 

Some  of  these  essays  originally  appeared  in  The 
Bookman,  Scribner's  Magazine,  and  The  North  Amer- 
ican Review,  and  I  thank  the  editors  of  those  journals 
for  permission  to  make  use  of  them. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Literary  Italy 1 

II.    Literary  Italy  (continued) 25 

III.  Gabriele     D'Annunzio — Poet,     Pilot,     and 

Pirate 44 

IV.  The  Futurist  School  of  Italian  Writers  .  70 

V.    Giovanni   Papini   and   the   Futuristic    Lit- 
erary Movement  in  Italy 88 

VI.    Two  Noisy  Italian  Schoolmasters     ...  107 

VII.     Improvisional   Italian    Literature   of   To- 

Day  and  Yesterday 121 

VIII.    Fictional  Biography  and  Autobiography  148 

IX.    The  Literary  Mausoleum  of  Samuel  But- 
ler         159 

X.    Saints  and  Sinners 173 

XI.    Woman's  Cause  Is  Man's:  They  Rise  or  Sink 

Together 185 

XII.      POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES 198 

XIII.  World  Convalescence 214 

XIV.  Banquets  and  Personalities 236 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PiOB 

XV.    Sentimentality  and  the  Male      ....     251 

XVI.    The  Play  Instinct  in  Child  ben    ....    263 

XVII.  "If  a  Man  Walketh  in  the  Night,  He  Stum- 
bleth;  but  if  He  Walketh  in  the  Day  He 
Seeth  the  Light  of  This  World"     .     .     .     277 

XVIII.    The  American  Eagle  Changes  His  Perch  .     293 


IDLING  IN  ITALY 


IDLING   IN   ITALY 


CHAPTER  I 
LITERARY  ITALY 

There  is  something  about  the  word  Italy  that 
causes  an  emotional  glow  in  the  hearts  of  most  Ameri- 
cans. For  them  Italy  is  the  cradle  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion and  of  the.  Christian  religion;  the  land  where 
modern  literature  and  science  took  their  faltering  first 
steps;  the  garden  where  the  flowers  of  art  first  bloomed, 
then  reached  a  magnificence  that  has  never  been 
equalled;  the  land  that  after  having  so  long  agonized 
under  the  tyrant  finally  rose  in  its  might  and  deliv- 
ered her  children,  carrying  the  principles  of  personal 
liberty  to  a  new  and  noble  elevation. 

We  have  an  admiration  and  affection  for  her  that 
one  has  for  a  beautiful  mother  whose  charm  and 
redolency  of  accomplishment  has  increased  with  time. 

In  recent  days  there  have  been  countless  numbers 
on  this  western  continent  who  feel  that  Italy  has  not 
had  recognition  from  the  world  of  her  decision,  her 
valor,  and  her  accomplishment  in  shaping  the  World 
War  to  a  successful  end.  Their  interest  in  her  has 
been  quickened  and  their  pride  enhanced.  They  look 
forward  with  confidence  to  the  time  when  she  will 
again  have  a  measure  of  that  supremacy  in  the  field 
of  art  and  literature  which  once  made  her  the  cyno- 
sure of  all  eyes,  the  loadstone  of  all  hearts.    They 

l 


2  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

hope  to  see  her  on  a  pedestal  of  political,  social,  and 
religious  liberty  worthy  of  the  dreams  of  Mazzini, 
which  shall  be  exposed  to  the  admiring  gaze  of  the 
whole  world. 

Already  there  are  indications  that  she  is  making 
great  strides  in  literature  and  a  generation  of  young 
writers  is  forging  ahead,  heralding  the  coming  of  a  new 
order. 

It  can  scarcely  be  expected  that  Italy  will  achieve 
the  position  she  had  in  the  sixteenth  century  when 
Ariosto  and  Tasso,  Machiavelli  and  Guicciardini, 
Bandello  and  Aretino,  Cellini  and  Castiglione  gave  to 
literature  an  unrivalled  supremacy.  But  it  may  be 
legitimately  hoped  that  Italy  will  give  up  the  servile 
admiration  and  imitation  of  foreign  literature,  and 
particularly  of  the  French,  which  has  been  so  evident 
during  the  past  one  hundred  years,  and  at  the  same 
time  while  taking  pride  in  her  cinquecento  accom- 
plishments, even  in  the  glories  of  her  romantic  period, 
realize  that  the  vista  which  appeals  to  the  children  of 
men  to-day  is  that  obtained  from  looking  forward  and 
not  backward. 

I  shall  take  a  cursory  glance  over  the  literature 
of  the  nineteenth  century  preparatory  to  a  survey 
of  that  of  the  twentieth,  and  note  some  trends  and 
their  significance:  the  dislocation  of  habitual  ways 
of  looking  at  things,  of  modes  of  thought,  and  of 
peeps  into  the  future  caused  by  the  French  Revolu- 
tion; the  outlook  for  the  Italian  people  which  seemed 
to  be  conditioned  by  the  Napoleonic  occupation;  the 
imminence  of  a  change  in  the  way  in  which  the  world 
was  likely  to  be  ordered  and  administered  suggested  by 
the  fall  of  thrones  and  governments.    Such  events 


LITERARY   ITALY  3 

could  not  fail  to  be  reflected  in  the  literature,  particu- 
larly in  imaginative  literature  as  parallel  conditions  to- 
day are  being  reflected  in  literature,  practically  all  of 
which  is  burdened  with  one  topic :  destruction  of  privi- 
lege and  liberation  from  archaic  convention  that  free- 
dom and  liberty  shall  have  a  larger  significance — in 
brief,  making  a  new  estimate  of  human  rights.  With 
the  powerful  political  and  religious  reaction  that  was 
manifest  in  all  Europe  after  the  French  Revolution 
there  developed  a  kind  of  contempt,  indeed  abhorrence, 
of  antique  art  and  literature  because  it  was  pagan 
and  republican.  The  deeds  of  men,  their  longings, 
their  aspirations,  their  loves,  their  hatreds,  their  mel- 
ancholies; the  beauties  of  nature,  their  potencies  to 
influence  the  emotional  state  of  man  and  particularly 
to  contribute  to  his  happiness;  the  liberation  of  man- 
kind from  galling  tyranny  and  the  universal  happi- 
ness that  would  flow  from  further  liberation  were  the 
themes  of  writers.  These  coupled  with  neglect  and 
disdain  of  the  heroes  of  antiquity,  mythological  and 
actual,  caused  a  romantic  literature  which  moved  over 
Europe  like  an  avalanche. 

Italy  contested  every  inch  of  the  threatened  en- 
croachment upon  its  soil,  and  one  of  her  poets,  Vittorio 
Alfieri  (1749-1803),  who  was  most  potent  in  resisting 
it,  stood  out  to  the  end  for  the  classic  ideal.  The 
period  of  his  greatest  mental  activity  and  creativeness 
antedated  the  French  Revolution,  and  although  he 
was  in  Paris  when  it  was  at  its  height,  its  significance 
in  so  far  as  it  is  reflected  in  his  writings  was  lost 
upon  him.  The  same  is  true  of  Giuseppe  Parini 
(172&-1799),  who,  during  the  last  fifty  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  had  great  vogue  in  Italy  because 


4  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

of  a  poem  called  "II  Giorno"  ("The  Day"),  in  which 
"The  Morning,"  "The  Noon,"  "The  Evening,"  and 
"The  Night"  of  a  Lombard  gentleman  was  depicted 
to  life  and  satirized. 

The  writings  of  Ugo  Foscolo  (1776-1827),  which 
were  given  far  higher  rating  by  contemporaries  than 
by  posterity,  foreshadowed  the  yielding  of  the  classic 
traditions.  But  it  was  not  until  Cesarotti  published  a 
translation  of  MacPherson's  "Ossian"  that  the  flood- 
gates of  romance  were  opened  for  Italian  literature. 
It  was  published  at  Padua  (1763-1770).  From  that 
date  imaginative  and  lyric  literature  of  Italy  began  to 
devote  itself  to  celebrating  Italy's  glorious  past,  to  an- 
ticipating its  future  glories,  to  recounting  and  satirizing 
contemporaries,  to  pillorying  the  crimes  of  the  tyrants 
who  had  fastened  themselves  upon  Italy,  and  to  ex- 
posing the  corruptions  of  its  governments. 

Its  promoters  were  obsessed  with  the  idea  that 
they  must  get  away  from  the  classic  traditions.  They 
sought  to  avoid  the  stern  realities  of  life,  its  suffer- 
ings and  its  tragedies,  and  instead  to  depict  beauty, 
pleasure,  and  happiness.  They  exalted  the  comedy 
and  suppressed  the  tragedy  of  daily  life. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Italian  romantic  liter- 
ature had  its  origin  in  the  Societa  del  Caffe  founded 
in  Milan  in  1746.  But  like  many  other  dogmatic  state- 
ments, it  should  not  be  accepted  literally.  "II  Caffe," 
published  by  the  Accademia  dei  Pugni,  was  not  ro- 
mantic. Its  iconoclastic  attitude  alone  toward  lit- 
erary tradition  may  entitle  it  to  a  certain  influence 
as  a  remote  precursor  of  the  romantic  movement. 
The  publication  which  fought  the  battle  for  Romanti- 
cism was  the   Conciliatore   (1818-1819).     Around    it 


LITERARY  ITALY  5 

was  constituted  the  Romantic  school  which  pro- 
duced Grossi  and  the  others.  Most  of  its  followers 
in  the  beginning  were  Lombardians,  therefore  under 
the  espionage  of  the  Austrian  Government.  They 
were  particularly  Tommaso  Grossi,  the  author  of  a 
romance  of  the  fourteenth  century  entitled  "  Marco 
Visconti,"  of  "Ildegonda,"  and  "I  Lombardi"  (the 
best  seller  of  its  day),  and  Giovanni  Berchet,  who, 
though  of  French  descent,  was  the  most  Italian  of 
Italians,  and  spent  a  large  part  of  his  life  in  exile  in 
Switzerland  and  England. 

Soon  the  Romanticists  were  given  a  political  com- 
plexion— they  were  resigned  to  their  fate  of  being 
slaves  to  Austria — at  least  they  were  accused  of  this 
by  the  classicists.  In  truth  they  were  digging  the 
trenches  in  which  were  later  implanted  the  bombs 
whose  explosion  put  the  Austrians  to  flight. 

The  predominant  figure  of  the  romantic  period  was 
Alessandro  Manzoni  (1785-1873).  It  is  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  he  carried  fame  of  Italian  letters  to 
greater  numbers  of  people  the  world  over  than  any 
writer  save  Dante.  In  1827  he  published  a  novel, 
"I  Promessi  Sposi"  ("The  Betrothed  Ones"),  which 
Walter  Scott  said  was  the  best  ever  written,  and  this 
opinion  was  seconded  by  Goethe.  He  had  shown 
his  emancipation  from  classicism  in  two  earlier  plays, 
"Carmagnola"  and  "Adelchi,"  but  it  was  not  until 
the  romance  above  mentioned  and  which  earned  his 
immortality  that  the  romantic  triumph  can  be  said 
to  have  occurred  in  Italy.  The  men  who  carried  the 
movement  forward  were  Pellico,  Niccolini,  Grossi, 
D'Azeglio,  Giordani,  Leopardi,  Giusti,  and  many 
others. 


6  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Among  these  the  two  who  have  been  most  favored 
by  posterity  are  Silvio  Pellico  (1789-1854),  prin- 
cipally because  of  the  book  in  which  he  described  his 
experiences  in  Austrian  dungeons,  "Le  mie  Pri- 
gioni "  ("My  Prisons"),  and  Leopardi,  the  intellec- 
tual giant  of  an  arid  epoch.  The  immortality  of  the 
former  is  founded  in  sentiment,  of  the  latter  in  merit. 

The  poet  who  had  greatest  popularity  in  Italy  at 
this  time  was  Giuseppe  Giusti  (1809-1850),  a  satir- 
ist who  chose  verse  as  his  medium.  Although  poster- 
ity has  not  given  him  a  very  high  rating,  his  "Versi" 
are  still  widely  read  in  Italy.  His  most  appealing  pos- 
session was  ability  to  express  in  scannable,  remembera- 
ble,  singable  verse  what  may  be  called  every-day  senti- 
ment, to  depict  simple  characters  whose  virtues  every 
one  would  like  to  have,  and  to  interlace  political  satires 
with  the  most  panoplied,  pathetic,  patriotic  sentiments. 
There  is  no  safer  way  to  sense  to-day  the  sentiment  of 
the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  of  Italy  than  to 
read  Giusti's  poems.  His  " A1P  Arnica  Lontana"  ("To 
the  Friend  Far  Away"),  "Gli  Umanitari"  ("The  Hu- 
manitarians"), and  his  poems  of  spleen  and  of  dream 
have  a  sprightliness  and  freshness  as  if  they  were  of 
yesterday.  Dario  Niccodemi  has  recently  borrowed  the 
title  "Prete  Pero"  from  one  of  Giusti's  poems  for  a 
comedy  in  which  is  depicted  the  conduct  of  a  simple, 
honest,  pious  priest  confronted  with  the  conflict  of 
ecclesiastical  instructions  and  war  problems.  Giusti's 
brief  life  was  a  strange  mixture  of  potential  joy  and 
actual  suffering.  In  the  vigor  of  his  manhood  he  was 
seized  by  a  painful  disease,  and  to  his  sufferings  was 
added  the  mental  agony  caused  by  fear  of  hydrophobia. 

Giuseppina  Guacci  Nobile  (1808-1848),  of  Naples, 


LITERARY  ITALY  7 

a  contemporary  of  Giusti,  had  great  popularity  as  a 
poetess  of  sentiment.  She  sang  of  love  of  country, 
of  art,  of  husband,  of  children,  of  heaven,  and  when 
the  sadness  of  the  times  was  so  profound  that  she 
needs  must  sing  of  hate  she  died. 

Three  poets  of  northern  Italy  must  also  be  men- 
tioned. Francesco  DalPOngaro,  who,  though  born  in 
the  Friuli,  went  to  Venice  when  he  was  ten  years  old 
and  lived  for  the  rest  of  his  life  in  the  northern  prov- 
inces, had  a  tremendous  popularity  in  the  revolu- 
tionary period  of  1848  because  of  a  little  collection  of 
lyrics  called  "Stornelli";  Giovanni  Prati,  of  Dasindo, 
Trent,  whose  permanent  reputation  as  a  poet  depends 
upon  his  ballads,  became  widely  known  through  his 
poem  "  Edmenegarda  " ;  and  Aleardo  Aleardi,  born  at 
Verona  in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
whose  best-known  book,  "Le  Prime  Storie,"  was  ex- 
tensively read. 

The  pillars  of  the  romantic  movement  were  soon 
erected  in  Central  Italy  by  the  writings  of  Leopardi, 
Niccolini,  and  Giusti. 

Giacomo  Leopardi  (1798-1837)  had  a  personality 
that  has  fastened  itself  upon  Italy,  even  unto  the  pres- 
ent day,  in  a  most  extraordinary — one  might  even  say, 
inexplicable — way.  He  was  laconic,  silent,  morose,  in- 
trospective, solitary,  celibate.  His  filial  love  was 
readily  overdrawn;  he  loathed  his  ancestral  home 
and  environment;  he  contended  with  ill  health  from 
infancy;  he  was  denied  the  understanding  friend,  save 
one,  whose  behavior  toward  Leopardi  has  been  criti- 
cised severely.  He  wandered  solitarily  about  cen- 
tral Italy  wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  introspection  and 
veiled  in  melancholy  until  1833,  when  he  settled  at 


8  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Naples,  and  there  he  remained  four  years,  until  he  had 
attained  his  thirty-ninth  year,  when  he  died  under 
most  distressing  circumstances.  Ranieri,  in  his  "Sette 
Anni  di  Sodalizio  con  Giacomo  Leopardi,"  gives  this 
description  of  Leopardi's  appearance:  he  was  of  moder- 
ate height,  bent  and  thin,  with  a  fair  complexion  that  in- 
clined to  pallor,  a  large  head,  a  square,  broad  forehead, 
languid  blue  eyes,  a  short  nose,  and  very  delicate 
features;  his  voice  was  modest  and  rather  weak;  his 
smile  ineffable  and  almost  unearthly. 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  foreigner  to  understand  the 
exalted  estimation  in  which  the  poetry  of  Leopardi  is 
held  in  Italy  to-day.  To  do  so  one  must  needs  sense 
the  spirit  of  the  times  when  he  lived.  The ' l  whatever  is 
is  right"  day  of  Pope  had  been  succeeded  by  a  day  of 
tragedy  the  like  of  which  the  world  had  perhaps  never 
known,  and  things  would  never  be  again  as  they  were. 
Leopardi  sung  this  change.  He  was  the  poet  of  pain 
and  of  despair,  the  versifier  of  Schopenhauer's  phi- 
losophy. He  sang  of  melancholy,  but  he  was  never 
reconciled  to  supine  resignation.  Though  classical  in 
form,  his  poems  are  steeped  with  the  romantic  spirit. 
Although  a  supporter  of  the  romantic  school,  he  scarcely 
can  be  called  an  exponent  or  upholder  of  it.  A  famili- 
arity with  his  writings  is  an  integral  part  of  the  educa- 
tion of  all  cultured  Italians,  and  nearly  every  school- 
boy can  recite  parts  of  the  poems  "To  Italy"  or  "The 
Quiet  after  the  Storm." 

Leopardi  considered  it  was  harder  to  write  good 
prose  than  good  verse.  Greek  thoughts  were  clearer 
and  more  vivid  to  him  than  Latin  or  Italian.  It  is  a 
pitiable  picture  that  Ranieri  draws  of  him  in  Naples, 
suffering  from  consumption  and  from  dropsy,  unable 


LITERARY  ITALY  9 

to  read,  turning  night  into  day,  having  dinner  at 
midnight  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  household,  having  to 
be  nursed  and  entertained,  disliking  the  country,  and 
living  in  abject  terror  of  the  cholera  which  then  raged 
in  Naples. 

De  Musset  praised  his  work.  Sainte-Beuve  did 
homage  to  him,  and  at  an  early  date  made  his  name 
familiar  to  French  readers.  The  judgment  of  poster- 
ity is  the  one  that  counts  and  not  the  judgment  of  in- 
dividuals, and  Leopardi  is  Italy's  greatest  modern  poet. 
De  Sanctis  said  of  him:  "His  songs  are  the  most  pro- 
found and  occult  verses  of  that  laborious  transition 
called  the  nineteenth  century."  His  death  marked  the 
close  of  the  first  romantic  period  in  Italy. 

Gian  Battista  Niccolini  (1785-1861)  wrote  tragedies, 
historical  romances,  and  poetry,  the  best  known  of 
which  is  "Arnaldo  da  Brescia."  The  Florentines 
have  erected  a  noble  monument  to  his  memory  in  their 
Westminster  Abbey — the  church  of  Santa  Croce. 

Massimo  D'Azeglio  (1798-1866),  diplomat,  states- 
man, and  man  of  letters,  played  a  very  conspicuous  part 
in  the  political  and  social  life  of  his  day,  and  left  an 
extraordinarily  interesting  account  of  it  and  of  his 
period  in  "I  miei  Ricordi"  ("My  Recollections"), 
which  no  one  desirous  of  acquainting  himself  with  the 
social  life  of  the  risorgimento  period  fails  to  read. 

A  literary  production  of  this  period  which  must  be 
mentioned,  not  because  of  its  merits  but  because 
it  is  a  sign  of  the  times,  was  that  of  Cesare  Cantu 
(1804-1895),  a  universal  history  in  thirty-five  volumes, 
which  went  through  forty  editions.  It  displays  lucidity 
of  statement,  sequential  narrative,  and  finished  literary 
technic.    It  was  highly  partisan  and  not  based  on  crit- 


10  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

ical  study  of  documentary  evidence.  He  saw  in  all 
Italian  writers,  beginning  with  Dante,  enemies  of  the 
church  and  of  God.  All  had  something  false  in  their 
art  which  it  pleased  him  to  reveal.  Italian  writers 
were  all  anti-Catholic,  and  classic  literature  was  all 
pagan;  he  excepted  Manzoni,  however,  and  himself. 

Two  noteworthy  historic  writers  were  V.  Gioberti 
(1801-1852)  and  Pasquale  Galluppi  (1770-1846), 
though  the  latter  confined  himself  chiefly  to  phi- 
losophy. No  review  of  the  literature  of  this  period 
should  fail  to  mention  Francesco  de  Sanctis  (1817- 
1883),  one  of  the  most  versatile  and  soundest  literary 
critics,  who  was  assiduous  in  calling  the  attention  of 
his  countrymen  to  the  writings  of  foreigners  and  in 
keenly  analyzing  and  evaluating  home  productions, 
and  Pasquale  Villari,  the  historian  of  Savonarola  and 
Macchiavelli. 

There  were  two  great  literary  figures  in  the  romantic 
triumph  of  Italy  of  the  nineteenth  century,  Manzoni 
and  Leopardi,  and  after  their  death  no  figure  of  any 
importance  came  upon  the  stage  for  upward  of  a 
generation. 

During  this  period — from  1830  to  1860,  let  us  say — 
the  rocks  from  which  were  to  gush  forth  the  waters  of 
liberalism  were  being  drilled.  The  times  were  too 
tense  to  facilitate  imaginative  literature,  and  mere 
record  of  events  was  more  startling  and  absorbing 
than  fiction. 

It  was  not  until  Giosue  Carducci  (1836-1907)  en- 
tered the  arena  and  dealt  romanticism  a  blow,  and  at 
the  same  time  restored  classicism,  that  Leopardi  had 
a  worthy  successor. 

To-day  there  is  a  Carducci  cult  in  Italy.  There 
are  individuals  and  groups  who  have  the  same  kind 


LITERARY  ITALY  11 

of  reverence  for  him  that  they  or  others  have  for  Leo- 
nardo. There  is  no  praise  for  him  that  is  too  fulsome, 
no  adulation  too  great.  Admirers  like  Panzini,  Pan- 
zacchi,  and  Papini  ransack  dictionaries  and  archives  to 
find  words  that  will  convey  their  devotion  to  him.  He 
was  a  man  who  incited  the  admiration  and  affection  of 
those  who  came  personally  in  contact  with  him.  His 
was  a  sturdy  personality,  which  inspired  confidence, 
generated  respect,  and  mediated  an  easy  belief  in  his 
inspiration.  The  son  of  a  country  doctor,  he  was 
born  in  a  little  village  in  Tuscany  in  1836.  Thus  his 
childhood  and  early  youth  coincided  with  those  years 
in  which  king,  pope,  and  emperor  seemed  to  vie  with 
one  another  in  crushing  independent  thought  in  Italy; 
those  years  in  which  men  dared  not  write,  fearing  their 
words  might  be  misconstrued,  or,  writing,  were  obliged 
to  publish  clandestinely.  During  these  years  Car- 
ducci's  thirst  for  liberty  and  freedom,  political,  social, 
and  religious,  developed,  and  for  a  third  of  a  century 
after  he  had  reached  the  age  of  man  he  externalized 
it  in  moving,  majestic,  musical  verse,  which  made 
known  Italy's  rights  and  aspirations,  and  encour- 
aged her  loyal  sons  to  continue  their  struggles. 

After  teaching  a  few  years  in  the  high  schools  of 
San  Miniato  and  Pistoia,  during  which  time  he  pub- 
lished a  selection  of  religious,  moral,  and  patriotic 
juvenile  poems  entitled  "Juvenilia,"  he  went  to  Bo- 
logna. In  1860  he  was  called  to  the  chair  of  Italian 
literature  in  the  University  of  Bologna  and  soon 
published  "Giambi  ed  Epodi"  ("Iambs  and  Epodes"). 
In  this  he  preached  republican  doctrines  so  openly 
that  he  gave  offense  to  the  crown  and  was  suspended 
from  his  position,  which,  however,  he  soon  regained. 

Soon  after  this  he  published,  under  the  pseudonym 


12  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

of  "Enotrio  Romano/ '  an  irreligious  or  materialistic 
poem  entitled  "Inno  a  Satana"  ("A  Hymn  to  Sa- 
tan "),  which  gave  him  great  popularity.  It  is  an 
invective  against  the  church,  which  through  its  mys- 
ticism and  asceticism  seeks  to  suppress  natural  im- 
pulses and  which  through  its  intellectual  censorship 
aims  to  stifle  scientific  investigation.  It  breathed  a 
spirit  of  revolt  against  tyranny  and  privilege,  especially 
clerical  privilege,  which  had  made  such  profound  growth 
in  Italy.  It  inveighed  against  the  efforts  of  suppres- 
sion of  human  rights  and  bespoke  the  culture  of  hu- 
man reason.  It  is  quite  impossible  to  read  under- 
standingly  the  "Hymn  to  Satan"  without  a  knowledge 
of  mythology  and  Greek  history.  Indeed,  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  features  of  his  poem  is  the  wealth 
of  classic  allusion.  Agramiania,  Adonis,  Astarte, 
Venus,  Anadyomene,  Cyprus,  Heloise,  Maro,  Flaccus, 
Lycoris,  Glycera  are  some  of  the  names  that  are  en- 
countered. It  was  not  until  the  publication  of  his 
"Odi  barbare"  ("Barbaric  Odes")  that  his  stride  as 
an  original  poet  began  to  be  recognized.  They  called 
forth  the  most  vicious  criticism  and  at  first  sight  it 
would  seem  that  they  must  sink  beneath  the  avalanche 
of  disapproval,  but  in  reality  Italy  was  ready  to  listen 
to  a  message  couched  in  new  form.  Conventional 
rhymes,  easily  read,  easily  remembered,  were  now  to 
give  way  to  rough,  sonorous  lines  in  which  rhythm 
took  the  place  of  rhyme  and  straight-from-the-shoulder 
blows  took  the  place  of  feints  and  passes. 

Carducci  met  his  critics  with  the  "Qa  ira."  It  is 
the  apology  of  the  French  Revolution  and  especially 
of  the  Convention.  The  title  of  the  sonnets  comes 
from  the  famous  revolutionary  song  of  the  reign  of 


LITERARY  ITALY  13 

terror.  Within  a  brief  time,  namely,  from  1883  to 
1887,  when  his  books  entitled  "New  Barbaric  Odes" 
and  "New  Rhymes"  were  published,  there  were  few 
competent  to  express  an  opinion  who  did  not  realize 
that  he  was  Italy's  most  learned  poet,  potent  in  the 
art  of  appreciation,  felicitous  in  conveying  noble  senti- 
ments and  inspiring  thoughts,  human  in  his  sympathies 
with  the  simple  and  the  oppressed,  a  tower  of  strength, 
a  pillar  of  fire.  From  that  period  until  to-day  Car- 
ducci's  fame  as  a  poet  has  steadily  gained  ground  in 
Italy,  so  that  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  many 
accord  him  the  crown  worn  by  Petrarch  and  Tasso. 
Those  who  fulsomely  praise  his  memory  see  in  him 
not  only  a  poet  but  a  learned  man  who  was  able  to 
strain  classic  erudition  through  his  understanding  mind 
to  such  effect  that  the  average  individual  could  avail 
himself  of  it  to  satisfaction  and  to  advantage.  They 
also  see  in  him  the  noblest  work  of  God,  an  honest 
man. 

His  students  idolized  him.  When  they  left  the 
university  and  returned  to  their  various  spheres  of 
activity  they  carried  his  image  in  their  hearts  and 
sounded  his  praises  with  tongue  or  pen.  They  made 
propaganda  con  amore.  No  one  is  ever  approved  of 
universally  in  any  country,  probably  least  of  any  in 
Italy.  When  Carducci  published  his  "Alia  Regina 
dTtalia"  ("Ode  to  the  Queen  of  Italy"),  one  of  his 
best — simple,  musical,  redolent  of  reverence  and  affec- 
tion— he  aroused  the  fury  of  the  republicans,  who 
called  him  traitor,  and  the  scorn  of  the  envious,  who 
called  him  snob. 

In  1891,  when  he  accepted  a  senatorship  of  the 
realm,  the  students  of  the  University  of  Bologna  howled 


14  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  jeered  at  him,  and  many  of  the  former  students 
plucked  or  tore  his  image  from  their  hearts.  They  had 
apotheosized  the  Great  Commoner,  and  they  saw  in 
this  truckling  to  royalty  and  honors  weakness  and 
vanity  which  they  could  not  believe  that  he  pos- 
sessed. Yet  in  1896,  when  he  completed  thirty-five 
years  of  service  at  the  university,  the  event  was  cele- 
brated for  three  successive  days,  and  the  outpouring 
of  expressions  of  admiration  and  gratitude  from  col- 
leagues and  students,  and  from  heads  crowned  with 
laurel  and  gold,  has  scarcely  ever  been  paralleled. 

In  an  autobiographical  sketch  in  the  volume  of 
"Poesie,"  of  1871,  he  relates  with  great  detail  the  way 
in  which  he  broke  from  his  early  parental  teachings 
and  acquired  his  new  literary,  political,  and  religious 
feelings.  Following  his  Hellenic  instincts,  the  reli- 
gious trend  in  him  was  toward  the  paganism  of  the 
ancient  Latin  forefathers  rather  than  toward  the  spiri- 
tuality that  had  come  in  with  the  infusion  of  foreign 
blood.  He  rebelled  against  the  passive  dependence 
on  the  fame  of  her  great  writers,  in  which  Italy  had 
lived  in  the  apathy  of  a  long-abandoned  hope  of 
political  independence  and  achievement.  The  livery 
of  the  slave  and  the  mask  of  the  courtesan  disgusted 
him.  His  was  the  hope  and  joy  of  a  nation  waking 
to  a  new  life.    He  was  the  poet  of  the  national  mood. 

Carducci  is  little  known  as  a  poet  in  this  country. 
There  are  many  reasons  why  his  fame  has  not  made 
headway  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries.  In  the  first  place, 
he  has  not  been  extensively  translated,  and  in  the 
second  place,  although  the  subject  of  his  song  was  so 
often  liberty,  his  lines  are  so  replete  with  erudite 
classic  illusions  that  even  though  he  could  be  trans- 


LITERARY  ITALY  15 

lated  he  would  be  found  to  be  hard  reading.  But 
more  than  all  there  is  probably  no  poet  whose  matter 
loses  so  much  of  its  music  and  its  fire  by  translation  as 
CarduccL  Such  exquisite  verses  as  the  "  Idylls  of  the 
Lowlands,"  "The  Ox,"  "The  Hymn  to  the  Seasons," 
"To  the  Fountains  of  Clitumnus"  are  translatable. 
It  would  require  a  Longfellow  to  do  it  so  that  they 
should  not  be  emasculated. 

In  1906  he  was  awarded  the  Nobel  prize  for  literature 
and  the  entire  literary  world  approved  of  the  reward. 
Two  years  previously  he  had  resigned  his  professorship, 
and  parliament  voted  him  a  pension  of  twelve  thou- 
sand lire  a  year  for  life,  but  it  was  of  short  duration, 
for  he  died  in  1907. 

Mario  Rapisardi,  to  whom  a  monument  has  been 
erected  in  his  native  town  of  Catania,  and  who  is 
known  best  for  his  tragedy  "Manfredi"  and  his  phil- 
osophic poem,  "La  Palingenesi, "  and  "Poesie  reli- 
giose," was  a  ferocious  critic  of  Carducci.  In  his 
poem  entitled  "Lucifer"  there  are  many  disparaging 
allusions  to  him.  Rapisardi  was  a  teacher  and  a 
poet,  but  a  spiritual  chameleon:  a  devout  believer, 
he  became  a  radicalist;  a  monarchist,  he  became  a 
socialist;  a  romanticist,  he  became  a  classicist.  He  is 
one  of  the  best  specimens  of  the  old  order  of  poets. 
His  "Falling  Stars"  and  "The  Impenitent"  have  a 
genuine  lyric  quality,  and  such  poems  as  "To  a  Fire- 
fly" have  movement,  rhythm,  and  luminosity  that  are 
impressive. 

The  only  poet  that  approximated  Carducci's  stature 
was  Giovanni  Pascoli  (1855-1912).  Though  he  was 
a  few  years  younger,  the  period  of  his  literary  activity 
was  contemporaneous.     When  Carducci  died,  Pascoli 


16  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

succeeded  him  for  a  few  years  in  the  University  of 
Bologna.  His  personal  story  appealed  tremendously 
to  Italians,  and  he  was  of  the  masses  in  appearance 
and  sentiment.  After  the  assassination  of  his  father 
by  an  unknown  hand  the  family  suffered  great  poverty, 
and  as  a  boy  the  support  of  two  younger  sisters  fell 
upon  him,  and  like  so  many  of  the  talented  young  men 
of  Italy  he  accomplished  it  by  teaching  school.  He 
was  teaching  in  the  high  school  of  Leghorn  in  1892 
when  he  published  "Myricae,"  upon  which  to-day  his 
fame  rests  most  securely.  His  verses  gave  him  an  im- 
mediate celebrity,  and  he  was  soon  made  professor  of 
Latin  and  Greek  in  the  University  of  Messina.  From 
there  he  went  to  Pisa  and  soon  afterward  to  Bologna. 

Pascoli  has  been  called  the  greatest  Latin  poet  after 
Virgil.  Some  of  the  titles  of  his  volumes  are  "Poe- 
metti"  (" Little  Poems"),  "PoemiConviviali"  (" Con- 
vivial Poems"),  "Odi  e  Inni"  ("Odes  and  Hymns"), 
"Canti  di  Castelvecchio"  ("Songs  of  Castelvecchio"), 
"Nuovi  Poemetti"  ("New  Little  Poems"),  "Poemetti 
Italici"  ("Little  Poems  of  Italy"),  "Le  Canzoni  di  Re 
Enzio"  ("The  Songs  of  King  Enzio"),  and  an  inter- 
pretative volume  of  Dante  entitled  "Sotto  il  Velame" 
("Beneath  the  Veil"). 

Despite  the  fact  that  he  was  an  advanced  political 
thinker,  he  taught  his  students  to  respect  the  law. 
He  was  the  poetical  evangelist  of  the  humble,  of  the 
unfortunate,  and  of  the  physically  venturesome.  He 
sang  of  the  cravings  of  the  soul,  of  the  problems  of 
existence,  of  Christian  acceptation,  of  the  glory  of 
Italy  and  the  accomplishments  of  her  sons. 

Posterity,  however,  is  whispering  that  the  name 
most  worthy  to  be  bracketed  with  Carducci  is  Gabriele 


LITERARY  ITALY  17 

D'Annunzio.    I  shall  consider  him  in  another  chap- 
ter. 

There  is  a  name  in  the  literary  annals  of  this  period 
that  is  steadily  gaining  claim  to  immortality.  It  is 
Giovanni  Verga,  the  chief  exponent  of  the  Veristic 
school,  who  was  born  at  Catania  in  1840  and  is  still 
living.  Although  it  is  the  opinion  of  those  who  are 
competent  to  judge  that  his  fame  as  a  novelist  is 
greater  than  that  of  Fogazzaro,  it  may  truthfully  be  said 
that  he  is  scarcely  known  beyond  the  confines  of  Italy, 
and  even  there  his  romances  have  not  had  the  recep- 
tion that  they  deserve.  A  few  years  ago  when  I  asked 
for  a  copy  of  "Mastro-don  Gesualdo"  in  the  leading 
bookshop  of  Palermo  and  was  not  successful  in  ob- 
taining it,  the  young  man  with  whom  I  talked  assured 
me  that  Zuccoli  would  prove  to  be  a  satisfactory  sub- 
stitute for  Verga.  If  he  is  known  at  all  in  this  coun- 
try, it  is  as  the  author  of  the  play  entitled  "Cavalleria 
Rustical,"  upon  which  was  composed  the  popular 
opera.  He  has  not  been  a  very  prolific  writer — eight 
romances,  half  a  dozen  volumes  of  short  stories,  and 
a  few  plays.  He  got  the  material  for  many  of  his 
short  stories  in  central  and  northern  Italy,  but  most 
of  his  romances  are  of  his  native  Sicily,  and  the 
pictures  of  life  in  the  little  villages  and  towns  in  the 
houses  of  the  passionate  peasants,  in  the  huts  of  the 
poverty-stricken  shepherds,  in  the  hovels  of  the  ad- 
venturous fishermen,  and  the  crumbling  palaces  of  the 
decayed  nobles  are  so  realistic,  so  true  to  life,  so  al- 
most photographically  depicted,  that  the  reader  feels 
that  they  are  mediated  by  his  own  senses.  Verga 
has  the  supreme  faculty  of  creating  men  and  women 
that  the  reader  has  met  or  would  like  to  meet. 


18  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

If  realism  consists  in  depicting  people  as  they  are 
and  particularly  people  who  are  battling  with  the 
stern  realities  of  life — poverty,  illness,  passions — then 
Verga  is  a  great  realist.  The  best  of  his  romances, 
though  not  the  most  popular,  are  "I  Malavoglia"  and 
"Mastro-don  Gesualdo."  "Tigre  Reale"  had  the 
greatest  popularity,  and  the  "Storia  di  una  Capinera" 
("The  Story  of  a  Black-hood  Novice"),  the  most 
ardently  romantic  of  all  romantic  stories,  and  "II  Ma- 
rito  di  Elena"  ("The  Husband  of  Helen")  were  widely 
read. 

"I  Malavoglia"  and  "Mastro-don  Gesualdo"  were 
to  have  been  succeeded  by  a  third  volume  which  would 
complete  the  story  of  the  characters  unfolded  in  them, 
but  it  never  appeared.  When  we  recall  that  only 
eight  thousand  copies  of  the  former  have  been  sold  in 
forty  years,  we  readily  understand  the  artist's  dis- 
couragement. Posterity  is  likely  to  link  Verga's  name 
with  Leopardi  and  Manzoni. 

The  great  romance-writer  of  Italy  during  the  days  of 
her  resurrection  was  Manzoni.  During  the  first  and 
second  generations  of  Italy's  unity  the  mantle  of  his 
greatness  was  worn  gracefully  and  becomingly  by  An- 
tonio Fogazzaro  (1842-1911).  Born  at  Vicenza,  he 
had  the  bringing-up  and  education  of  a  gentleman. 
His  best-known  books  are  "Daniele  Cortis,"  "Piccolo 
Moderno  Mondo"  ("The  Little  Modern  World"), 
"Piccolo  Mondo  Antico"  ("The  Little  Antique 
World"),  and  "II  Santo"  ("The  Saint").  "Daniele 
Cortis"  is  generally  believed  to  reveal  Fogazzaro's 
moral,  religious,  and  political  convictions.  It  is  a 
series  of  interesting  pictures  of  intimate  life  in  the 
upper  circles  and  reveals  the  mental  development  of  a 


LITERARY  ITALY  19 

man  of  high  principles,  the  skeleton  in  whose  closet 
is  a  mother  who,  having  side-stepped  the  paths  of 
morality  in  her  youth,  and  who  was  lost  to  her  son  for 
several  years,  thrusts  herself  upon  him  the  very  day 
when  he  has  his  feet  securely  set  on  the  ladder  whose 
apex  is  a  brilliant  political  career.  His  struggles  be- 
tween duty  to  his  mother  and  obligations  to  his  coun- 
try, his  desire  not  to  offend  convention  or  outrage 
morality,  his  love  for  his  cousin  Eleana,  tame  for  him 
but  consuming  to  her,  unhappily  married  to  a  Sicilian 
roue*  brute  and  baron,  are  narrated  in  a  way  that 
seduces  even  the  casual  reader.  Indeed  it  is  wonder- 
fully done,  and  attention  is  sustained  to  the  end, 
virtue  being  finally  rewarded. 

"The  Saint' '  is  a  psychological  study  of  abnormal 
religious  development.  It  presented  forcibly  the  ne- 
cessity for  reform  of  the  Vatican  and  ecclesiastical  cus- 
toms and  beliefs.  When  it  was  put  on  the  Index  it 
caused  its  illustrious  author,  a  fervent  believer  and  an 
exemplary  communicant,  much  pain  and  remorse. 
" Leila"  continued  the  history  of  the  leading  char- 
acter of  "The  Saint."  It  is  said  that  the  author 
hoped  it  would  make  amends  for  the  offense  that  the 
latter  had  given,  but  it  was  also  put  on  the  Index. 

He  wrote  a  volume  of  poetry,  and  many  of  his  verses 
are  redolent  of  music  and  charm,  such  as  "Ultima 
Rosa"  ("The  Last  Rose")  and  "Amorum."  He  has 
been  more  widely  read  in  this  country  than  any  Italian 
writer  of  fiction  save  D'Annunzio.  He  raised  one 
slab  to  his  memory  which  will  resist  more  than  granite — 
"Piccolo  Mondo  Antico."  It  will  be  preserved  by  time, 
and  cherished  for  the  same  reason  that  one  keeps  and 
lauds  a  marvellous  picture  of  wife  or  mother,  brother 


20  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

or  sweetheart,  because  it  is  a  bit  of  perfection  and  be- 
cause the  owner  loves  it. 

An  extraordinary  figure  in  Italian  literature  of  yes- 
terday and  of  the  period  under  discussion,  was  Olindo 
Guerrini  (1845-1916),  for  many  years  director  of  the 
University  Library  at  Bologna.  In  1878  he  published 
a  volume  entitled  "Postuma"  which  purported  to  be 
the  work  of  one  Lorenzo  Stecchetti  which  caused  prud- 
ish Italy  to  shiver,  prurient  Italy  to  shake,  and  literary 
Italy  to  be  enormously  diverted.  The  "Postuma" 
went  through  thirty-two  editions  in  forty  years,  but 
one  should  not  inquire  too  closely  the  reason  for  this. 
When  critics  discovered  that  the  author  was  alive 
they  assailed  his  immodest  verses,  and  his  responses 
"Nova  Polemica"  added  to  his  literary  reputation. 
But  it  was  not  until  he  published  his  prose  writings 
that  he  displayed  his  real  literary  stature. 

"Postuma"  is  still  read,  that  the  reader  may 
find  something  recent  to  compare  with  the  con- 
duct of  Messalina  rather  than  for  its  literary  qualities. 
"Rime,"  which  has  no  panoplied  display  of  the  author's 
libido  but  many  charming  idyls,  reminiscences,  and 
vignettes  is  much  read  to-day.  Such  poems  as  "II 
Guado"  ("The  Ford")  and  "Nell'  Aria"  are  as 
redolent  of  sentiment  and  ingenuous  experiences  that 
lead  to  thrills  as  a  rose  is  redolent  of  perfume.  Every 
schoolgirl  can  quote  the  last  two  lines  of  the  latter: 

"Ed  io  che  intesi  quel  che  non  dicevi 
M'innamorai  di  te  perche  tacevi." 

Other  poems  such  as  "Congedo"  ("Leave-taking") 
and  "Wienerblut,"  after  the  waltz  of  Johann  Strauss, 


LITERARY  ITALY  21 

had  great  popularity  at  the  time  and  were  praised 
by  his  contemporaries,  but  to-day  it  is  difficult  to 
find  great  merit  in  them.  Were  one  called  upon 
to  make  specific  comment  upon  his  poetry,  he  would 
have  to  point  out  the  very  obvious  influence  of  Byron, 
De  Musset,  and  Heine,  and  to  say  that  Guerrini  in 
no  way  is  comparable  with  any  of  them.  Much  has 
been  written  about  him  as  the  index  of  the  revolt 
against  the  corrupt  romanticism  of  the  third  romantic 
period  in  Italy.  He  was  the  uncompromising  foe  of 
cant  and  hypocrisy  in  literature  and  the  stanch  de- 
fender of  realism. 

Giuseppe  Lipparini,  an  eminently  fair  critic,  gives 
him  a  higher  rating  as  a  writer  of  prose  than  of  poetry. 
These  include  "Vita  di  Giulio  Cesare  Croce"  ("Life 
of  Julius  Caesar  Croce"),  a  monograph  on  Francesco 
Patuzio,  and  " Bibliografia  per  ridere"  ("The  Laugher's 
Library"). 

Although  there  were  countless  poets  of  this  period, 
two  or  three  should  be  mentioned,  more  because  of  the 
effect  they  had  upon  the  public  taste,  perhaps  one 
might  say  public  education,  than  for  the  intrinsic 
merit  of  their  writings;  and  of  these  may  be  mentioned 
Vittorio  Betteloni  (1840-1910),  the  son  of  a  romantic 
poet.  His  writings  may  be  said  to  have  popularized  the 
public  protest  against  the  romanticism  of  the  third 
romantic  period.  He  also  made  known  to  many  of  his 
countrymen  the  poetry  of  Byron  and  of  Goethe  in 
faithful  poetic  translations. 

Brief  mention  is  here  made  of  two  literary  men 
of  affairs  in  Italy,  the  purpose  being  more  to  call 
attention  to  a  type  of  individual  who  is  more  often 
found  in  Italy  than  in  any  other  country — the  versatile, 


22  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

many-sided,  cultivated  man  of  affairs  who  has  also 
distinctive  literary  talent. 

Enrico  Panzacchi  (1841-1904)  published  a  volume 
of  lyrics,  fluid,  harmonious,  transparent,  treating  of 
homely,  every-day  subjects  which  appealed  very  much 
to  the  public.  He  first  became  known  as  a  writer 
of  seductive  romances,  then  as  an  accomplished 
musician,  afterward  as  a  lyric  poet,  then  as  a  critic  of 
literature,  aesthetics,  and  philosophy.  He  taught  the 
philosophy  and  history  of  art;  he  was  the  secretary  of 
the  Academy  of  Belle  Arti  at  Bologna,  for  many  years  a 
deputy  in  Parliament,  and  at  one  time  undersecretary 
of  state  and  an  orator  of  great  renown.  His  reputation 
as  a  poet  depends  largely  upon  "Cor  Sincerum,,,  pub- 
lished in  1902.  In  his  versatility  he  reminds  of  Remy 
de  Gourmont,  although  his  literary  productions  were 
incomparably  less  numerous,  but  in  temper  of  mind, 
literary  equipment,  aesthetic  appetite,  and  general  vir- 
tuosity they  are  brothers. 

The  other  is  Ferdinando  Martini,  a  governor  of  one 
of  Italy's  colonies,  a  minister  of  public  instruction,  a 
deputy  of  long  service,  a  poet,  an  essayist,  a  biographer, 
and  a  traveller,  the  Italian  Admirable  Crichton.  He  .vas 
born  in  Monsummano  in  1841,  and  for  forty-five  years 
was  without  interruption  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 
He  went  under  in  the  last  election.  He  has  published 
many  books  and  articles,  amongst  which  may  be  men- 
tioned "Nell'  Africa  Italiana"  ("In  African  Italy"), 
but  the  casual  reader  will  get  most  pleasurable  contact 
with  him  from  "Pagine  Raccolte."  He  is  an  excellent 
example  of  the  cultured  man  in  public  life  in  Italy. 
His  prose  integrates  the  aroma  of  the  classics,  while  at 
the  same  time  his  sympathies  and  interests  bring  his 


LITERARY  ITALY  23 

subjects  up  to  the  minute.  His  writings  have  a  prag- 
matic as  well  as  an  aesthetic  quality.  None  of  them 
has  the  air  of  preachings.  He  knows  how  to  be  pro- 
found without  being  heavy  and  learned  without  being 
pedantic.  For  him  literature  has  not  been  an  aesthetic 
exercise  or  a  statement  of  human  rights  and  human 
needs.  Prospective  admirers  should  not  study  too 
closely  his  political  career. 

Death  has  claimed  nearly  all  of  the  conspicuous 
figures  of  literature  in  the  period  of  the  risorgimento. 
One  who  had  a  strange  tenacity  of  life,  which  he  but 
recently  yielded,  was  Salvatore  Farina,  whose  first 
romances,  "Un  Segreto"  ("A  Secret")  and  "Due 
Amori"  ("Two  Loves"),  were  published  more  than 
fifty  years  ago.  He  was,  perhaps,  the  truly  repre- 
sentative writer  of  the  Piccolo  Borghese  in  the  genera- 
tion that  followed  Italy's  unity.  In  the  fifty  or  more 
volumes  that  he  published  (the  last  of  which  appeared 
in  1912  and  was  called  the  "Second  Book  of  the 
Lovers")  he  portrayed  a  variety  of  romanticism 
which  was  the  outgrowth  of  the  struggle  between  the 
drab  and  commonplace  realities  of  fife  and  the  fan- 
tastic dreams  of  simple-minded  persons  who  thought 
that  fife  would  be  ideal  if  it  could  be  fashioned  after 
their  own  plans.  He  was  the  novelist  of  sickly  senti- 
ment, the  most  slavish  disciple  that  Samuel  Richardson 
ever  had.  Students  of  Italian  literature  will  read  his 
two  reminiscent  volumes  called  "La  mia  Giornata,"  the 
first  published  in  1910,  the  second  in  1913,  to  get  a 
picture  of  the  literary  doings  of  one  of  the  grayest 
and  most  uncertain  periods  of  modern  Italian  literature. 
He  is  mentioned  here  merely  to  note  the  tremendous 
popularity  which  his  writings  had,  and  to  call  atten- 


24  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tion  to  the  fact  that  they  left  no  impression  upon  the 
times  and  that  the  type  of  novel  which  they  represent 
has  practically  now  disappeared  the  world  over. 


CHAPTER  II 

LITERARY  ITALY 

(continued) 

Among  the  interesting  literary  figures  of  the  old 
school  still  living  is  Renato  Fucini,  whose  pen-name  is 
Neri  Tanfucio.  He  is  now  nearly  eighty  years  old,  and 
for  some  years  has  been  living  in  a  small  town  not  far 
from  Florence,  writing  his  recollections.  In  college  he 
studied  civil  engineering,  but  he  soon  forsook  it  and 
secured  employment  in  the  office  of  the  Municipal  Art 
Direction  in  Florence.  Later  he  taught  Italian  in 
the  technical  school  at  Pistoia  and  after  that  was 
several  years  an  inspector  of  rural  schools.  It  was  dur- 
ing these  years  of  wandering  through  Tuscany  that  he 
got  the  intimate  knowledge  of  its  simple,  industrial, 
pleasure-loving  people,  peasant  and  poacher,  landlord 
and  inspector,  teacher  and  pupil,  that  he  has  em- 
bodied in  his  stories  and  in  his  burlesque,  tragic,  and 
sentimental  verses. 

His  fame  rests  on  his  dialect  poetry  ("Poesie"),  chiefly 
in  sonnet  form,  in  which  he  depicts  the  virtues  and  vices, 
the  licenses  and  inhibitions,  the  hopes  and  the  despairs, 
of  his  fellow  Tuscans,  at  the  same  time  embodying 
delightful  descriptions  of  their  charming,  romantic 
land ;  and  a  few  small  volumes  of  prose,  all  little  master- 
pieces— "Napoli  a  occhio  nudo"  ("Naples  to  the 
Naked  Eye,"  letters  written  to  a  friend  about  that 
enchanting  city  two  generations  ago  when  it  was  still 
plunged  in   the  misery  of  its  protracted  predatory 

25 


26  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

misrule  and  the  majority  of  its  inhabitants  were  re- 
duced to  a  deplorable  state) ;  "AIT  AriaAperta"  ("In 
the  Open  Air"),  scenes  and  incidents  of  life  among  the 
common  people  of  Tuscany;  and  "Le  Veglie  di  Neri" 
("Fireside  Evenings  of  Neri"),  which  showed  him  a 
man  of  heart  and  of  mind  supremely  capable  of  trans- 
forming the  messages  of  the  former  by  the  latter  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  great  appeal  to  his  fellow 
beings.  His  books  can  be  read  to-day  with  the  same 
pleasure  that  they  were  read  half  a  century  ago,  and 
the  pictures  which  are  painted,  particularly  in  the 
former,  are  as  vivid  as  the  day  they  were  first  put  on 
the  canvas. 

Fucini  is  a  type  that  is  indigenous  to  central  Italy, 
by  nature  a  lover  of  the  fields,  the  forest,  the  brooks, 
he  was  compelled  from  earliest  infancy  to  earn  his 
living,  and  he  seemed  to  be  content  with  a  bare  sus- 
tenance, getting  pleasure  from  his  wanderings  and 
from  books.  He  did  on  foot  and  more  intimately  what 
Signore  Panzini  has  done  on  a  bicycle  or  on  way  trains. 
As  an  inspector  of  country  schools  he  was  obliged  to 
visit  countless  villages  and  hamlets,  and  there  he  found 
in  the  habits,  customs,  and  conduct  of  their  inhabi- 
tants material  for  comment  and  reflections  such  as 
most  people  find  in  new  countries  and  large  cities.  His 
descriptions  of  them  found  sympathetic  response  in 
the  hearts  of  many  who  see  in  the  lives  of  these  simple 
yet  sophisticated  people  the  romance  of  bygone  days. 

Fucini  has  not  cut  a  great  figure  in  Italian  letters, 
but  any  one  who  would  get  a  familiarity  with  the 
literature  of  the  early  days  of  Italian  unity,  or  who  is 
in  search  of  diversion  and  delight  should  not  neglect 
him.    He  is  a  sympathetic  figure,  whether  wander- 


LITERARY  ITALY  27 

ing  through  Tuscany,  bending  over  a  table  in  the 
Riccardi  Library,  or  awaiting  his  cue  at  Empoli. 

A  writer  of  this  period  to  whom  posterity  is  likely  to 
give  a  high  rating  is  Alfredo  Oriani,  who  died  in  1907. 
His  fame  will  finally  rest  on  his  fiction  rather  than  on 
his  historical  contributions.  Though  "La  lotta  poli- 
tica  in  Italia "  ("The  Political  Struggle  in  Italy "), 
from  486  to  1877  in  three  volumes,  is  a  creditable 
performance,  it  is  not  based  on  personal  research. 
Malignant-minded  critics  have  occupied  themselves 
with  proving  him  a  pilferer,  but  the  work  is  done  with 
such  consummate  literary  skill  that  he  has  put  the 
reading  world  under  obligations  to  him. 

His  first  books,  "Memorie  inutili"  ("Useless  Mem- 
ories"), "Sullo  Scoglio"  ("On  the  Reefs"),  and  "Al  di 
la,  no"  ("The  Next  World,  No"),  revealed  such  un- 
bridled license  of  morbid  tendencies  that  even  Italians 
could  not  stomach  them.  He  appeared  to  them  a 
romanticist  after  the  manner  of  Guerrazzi,  addicted 
to  the  Macabre,  subject  to  satanic  inspiration,  bom- 
bastic, and  rhetorical. 

When  Oriani  took  up  a  second  phase  of  his  writing 
in  the  period  from  1880  to  1890  the  reading  public 
still  continued  to  mistrust  him.  Although  he  brought 
his  spirit  to  a  more  stable  equilibrium,  he  carried 
upon  himself  the  stigma  that  clung  to  him  in  conse- 
quence of  his  previous  books,  and  such  productions  as 
"IlNemico"  ("The  Enemy"),  "Incenso  e  Mirra" 
("Incense  and  Myrrh"),  "Fino  a  Dogali"  ("Up  to 
Dogal"),  "Matrimonio  e  divorzio"  ("Marriage  and 
Divorce"),  did  not  absolve  him  from  previous  sins. 

His  turgid  style  was  more  objected  to  than  his 
taints  and   his   themes,   and   his  aggressiveness   and 


28  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

political  arrogances  found  greater  opposition  than  his 
early  decadent  manner  and  his  late  negations  in  re- 
ligious matters.  He  was  accused  of  being  a  plagiarist. 
His  greatest  work  "Lotta  Politica"  was  characterized 
by  a  critic,  L.  Ambrosina,  to  be  wholly  devoid  of  orig- 
inality. His  "Momo"  was  called  an  imitation  of 
TurgeniefTs  "A  Neighbor's  Bread."  His  "LTnvin- 
cibile"  was  derived  from  " Andrea  Cornells"  of  Paul 
Bourget,  and  the  "Ultimi  Barbari"  ("The  Last  Bar- 
barians") from  Verga's  "PagHacci"  and  the  "Caval- 
leria  Rusticana." 

Thus  beset,  Oriani,  despairing  of  recognition,  gath- 
ered his  strength  for  a  final  flight  and  strove  to  reach 
heights  never  reached  before,  and  he  wrote  "The 
Political  Struggle,"  "Holocaust,"  and  "Ideal  Re- 
volts." 

"The  Holocaust "  is  a  study  of  mother  and  daughter. 
The  mother  has,  from  leading  a  wayward  life,  been  able 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together  until  middle  age  has 
effaced  her  charms.  Reduced  to  hunger  and  rags,  she 
decides  to  sacrifice  her  fifteen-year-old  daughter  and 
offers  her  to  the  first  stranger  whom  she  encounters 
walking  beside  the  Arno  one  evening;  she  takes  him  to 
her  contemptible  rooms  where  the  emaciated  and 
ragged  child  awaits,  in  ignorance  of  her  mission,  the 
mother. 

The  young  man  of  the  self-made  and  aggressive 
type  primed  with  animal  spirits  hesitates  to  be  the 
instrument  of  the  mother's  monstrous  designs,  and  hurls 
himself  from  the  house  when  he  realizes  the  situation, 
leaving  the  contents  of  his  purse  with  the  crushed  little 
flower.  The  inhuman  mother  and  a  friend  even  more 
saturated   in  iniquity  spend  the  money  in  an  im- 


LITERARY  ITALY  29 

provised  banquet  and  plan  how  they  shall  take  the 
child  to  the  home  of  a  well-known  procuress.  Their 
object  is  realized  when  this  is  accomplished  and  the 
mother  receives  a  small  sum  of  money,  but  the  child, 
not  having  been  cut  out  for  the  life,  soon  escapes. 
A  narrative  of  her  experiences,  a  picture  of  her  suffer- 
ing, the  conflict  between  filial  love  and  justifiable  re- 
sentment, is  set  forth  in  page  after  page  of  psycho- 
logical analysis.  From  the  violence  of  the  encounter 
flow  simultaneously  mortal  disease  and  pregnancy. 
The  former  gives  the  author  an  opportunity  to  de- 
pict the  child  mind  in  rebellion  against  both  bodily 
and  spiritual  salvation.  The  ministrations  of  the 
church  are  done  with  great  finesse,  kindliness,  and 
skill,  and  give  much  satisfaction  to  believers.  This  may 
be  the  author's  votive  offering  to  the  church,  or  it 
may  reflect  a  new  illumination  of  his  soul.  When  the 
heroine  dies  the  mother  realizes  her  sin  in  having  borne 
the  child  and  in  having  betrayed  her. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  anything  more  dis- 
agreeable than  the  story.  The  only  thing  that  can  be 
said  is  that  it  is  well  told,  but  what  does  it  advantage 
one  to  read  it?  As  Henry  James  said,  no  one  is  com- 
pelled to  admire  any  particular  sort  of  writing,  but 
surely  there  must  be  compulsion  to  make  one  write 
them.  And  as  Flaubert,  whom  Oriani  probably  called 
master,  wrote:  "Such  books  are  false;  nature  is  not 
like  that." 

Oriani  lived  a  singularly  isolated  life,  having  little 
contact  with  his  fellow  workers  and  little  recognition. 
But  he  was  a  thinker  and  idealist,  and  it  is  unfortunate 
that  he  did  not  choose  more  attractive  media  to  pre- 
sent his  thought  and  project  his  aspirations.    Only 


30  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

after  his  death  did  he  begin  to  get  any  measure  of  ap- 
preciation. The  four  wars  against  Austria,  the  final 
charge  against  the  Alps,  foreseen  and  invoked  by 
Oriani,  were  the  conditions  of  his  recognition  by  the 
Italian  people. 

The  most  widely  read  of  all  Italian  writers  of  this 
period  was  Edmondo  de  Amicis  (1846-1908).  His 
books,  "Bozzetti  Militari"  ("Military  Life"),  which 
appeared  shortly  after  his  period  of  service  in  the 
army,  and  the  book  for  boys  entitled  "Cuore" 
("Heart"),  had  a  tremendous  sale  and  still  have. 
They  were  also  widely  read  outside  of  Italy.  He 
wrote  many  books  of  travel,  some  poetry,  literary 
portraits,  and  short  stories.  However,  he  made  no 
particular  impression  upon  the  literary  period  of  his 
time. 

Guido  Mazzoni,  born  in  1859,  was,  and  perhaps  still  is, 
professor  at  the  University  of  Florence.  He  has  been 
for  many  years  secretary  of  the  Crusca  and  senator  of 
the  realm.  His  critical  work  is  "L'Ottocento."  His 
poetry  is  of  the  familiar  variety.  "Sewing-machine" 
is  one  of  them.  He  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  cul- 
ture of  the  Italians,  but  he  has  made  no  lasting  im- 
pression upon  Italian  letters.  He  is  best  known  in  this 
country  from  Papini's  gibes  at  him  and  at  the  Crusca. 
His  recent  contributions,  "The  Lament  of  Achilles" 
and  "Con  Gli  Alpini"  ("With  the  Alpini"),  are  of  the 
eminently  respectable,  commendable,  poet-laureate  va- 
riety, called  forth  by  valorous  deeds  of  Italy's  soldier 
sons. 

Nothing  shows  the  flight  from  romanticism  to  real- 
ism that  took  place  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury so  clearly  as  its  stage  literature.     The  dominating 


LITERARY  ITALY  31 

figure  of  that  period  was  Giuseppe  Giacosa.  *He  was 
not  alone  the  most  prolific  contributor  to  the  literature 
of  the  theatre,  but  a  man  who  early  excited  and  kept 
the  admiration  and  affection  of  fellow  artists.  He  can 
truthfully  be  called  the  literary  mirror  of  that  period 
in  Italy. 

The  lamp  of  enthusiasm  was  flickering  when  he 
first  put  secure  steps  upon  the  literary  road,  but  it 
lighted  him  to  a  great  success  in  "Una  Partita  a 
Scacchi"  ("A  Game  of  Chess")-  Then  the  car  of  real- 
ism came  along  with  a  rush,  as  if  it  would  carry 
everything  in  its  wake,  and  he  threw  a  great  bouquet 
into  the  tonneau  in  the  shape  of  "Surrender  at  Dis- 
cretion." But  his  ear  was  always  to  the  ground,  and, 
when  he  sensed  the  advent  of  a  new  literary  period 
and  learned  of  the  existence  of  readers  that  did  not 
know  just  what  they  wanted  but  thought  they  would 
like  to  have  the  truth,  the  naked  truth  of  life  as  de- 
picted in  fiction,  he  wrote  "Sad  Loves."  But  the 
Veristic  period  did  not  last  long,  and  Giacosa  took 
leave  of  it  without  a  tear.  Pascoli  and  D'Annunzio 
had  not  only  entered  idealistic  realism  in  the  literary 
race, .but  they  were  shouting  in  the  most  vociferous 
way  for  the  latter  especially  to  win.  When  Giacosa 
became  fully  cognizant  of  the  favorite  colors  he  was 
quick  to  make  his  entry  with  "As  the  Leaves"  and 
"II  Piu  Forte"  ("The  Stronger"). 

The  play  to  which  he  owed  his  first  success,  "A 
Game  of  Chess,"  had  a  remarkable  career  in  Italy, 
and  it  still  makes  leading  appeal  to  extravagant  youth 
and  romantic  maturity,  who  see,  in  the  lovely  Iolande 
or  in  the  dashing  Fernando,  prototypes  who  solve 
perplexing  problems  of  life  with  an  ease  and  readiness 


32  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

that  is  soul-satisfying.  They  also  see  in  their  experi- 
ences the  smouldering  or  dying  embers  of  their  own 
passions,  whose  articulate  breathings  cause  them  to 
glow  consumingly  and  pleasantly. 

Its  success  turned  the  author  from  law,  which  he 
despised,  to  literature,  which  he  adored. 

His  next  play,  "II  Trionfe  d'Amore"  ("The  Triumph 
of  Love"),  was  along  the  same  lines:  life  without 
sorrow  or  strife  save  such  as  make  pleasure — which 
bulks  large  in  life — sweeter.  Within  a  few  years  Gia- 
cosa  began  to  depict  life  as  it  really  was,  is,  or  should 
be,  and  the  first  indication  of  it  was  "II  Conte  rosso" 
("The  Red  Count"),  and  for  a  decade  he  gave  himself 
to  the  production  of  historical  plays  none  of  which 
can  be  used  to-day  as  a  wreath  on  the  monument  to 
his  memory.  It  was  not  until  he  wrote  "Resa  a  Dis- 
crezione"  ("Surrender  at  Discretion"),  that  he  came 
into  the  field  which  he  finally  tilled  so  profitably, 
holding  up  to  the  contemptuous,  scornful  gaze  of  the 
people  the  useless,  iniquitous,  pernicious  existences  of 
a  certain  class,  the  noble.  In  this  he  did  the  same 
thing  that  he  had  done  in  his  masterpiece,  "As  the 
Leaves."  But  here  he  portrayed  flesh  and  blood  con- 
fronted with  problems  conditioned  by  life,  called  chance. 
Instead  of  desperation  and  whetted  appetite  for  sen- 
suous appeasement,  we  see  latent  character  budding 
and  flowering  under  the  stimulus  of  adversity;  virtue 
which  does  not  lose  its  aroma  from  enforced  tarry  in 
putrid  milieu;  the  deadly  sins,  rooted  in  ancestral 
emotions  and  nurtured  by  environment  displayed  in 
the  conduct  of  human  beings  of  our  acquaintance 
and  our  intimacy;  we  see  the  exaltation  and  the  dep- 
recation of  viciousness  just  as  we  see  it  and  accom- 


LITERARY  ITALY  33 

plish  it  in  real  life.  The  literary  features  of  the  lines, 
the  crispness  and  naturalness  of  the  dialogue,  the 
fidelity  with  which  he  reflected  the  handling  of  prob- 
lems likely  to  confront  any  one  show  the  finished  artist. 

Giacosa  was  a  conspicuous  literary  figure  of  yester- 
day's Italy,  friend  of  poets  and  philosopher,  journalist, 
essayist,  lecturer,  man  of  the  world,  mirror  of  one  side 
of  its  mental  and  emotional  activity. 

Next  to  Verga  the  Verists  found  their  chief  exponent 
in  Luigi  Capuana,  a  Sicilian  born  in  1839  and  still 
living.  He  wrote  romances,  short  stories,  plays,  and 
criticisms,  none  of  which  save  the  latter  had  great 
vogue,  though  one  of  his  plays,  "Malia"  ("Enchant- 
ment"), gave  such  offense  to  Mrs.  Grundy  that  it 
had  great  popularity.  Like  Verga  he  knows  his  coun- 
trymen and  women,  particularly  their  emotional  re- 
actions and  the  conduct  conditioned  by  it,  by  their 
inheritancy,  and  by  their  environment.  Many  of  his 
short  stories  are  gems  of  construction  and  of  narrative. 
For  instance,  "  Passa  PAmore,"  in  "II  buon  Pastore" 
("The  Good  Pastor"),  is  a  masterly  delineation  of 
the  struggle  between  what  is  usually  called  good  and 
evil  in  the  person  of  a  saintly  old  priest.  Love  had 
been  an  abstract  conception  for  the  good  pastor  until 
he  essayed]  to  reclaim  a  lamb  who  had  been  driven 
from  the  fold  by  the  efforts  of  a  cruel  father  intensively 
to  prepare  her  for  sacrifice  at  the  hands  of  Cavalier 
Ferro.  Perhaps  if  Capuana  had  not  been  content  with 
merely  interesting  and  diverting  the  public,  as  he 
counselled  Bracco  to  be,  and  had  tried  to  teach  them 
and  lead  them  he  would  have  greater  renown.  As  it 
is  he  is  one  of  the  best  short-story  writers  of  Italy,  a 
discerning,  trustworthy  critic,  who  has  written  an  in- 


34  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

teresting  volume  of  studies  in  contemporary  literature, 
and  several  plays,  the  last  of  which,  "II  Paraninfo" 
("The  Best-man" ),  has  recently  been  published. 
Nevertheless  he  must  be  considered  a  writer  whose 
potentialities  were  but  partially  realized. 

Two  realistic  writers  of  the  end  of  the  nineteenth 
century  must  be  mentioned,  though  their  work  scarcely 
merits  discussion  and  to  do  so  may  be  unjust  to  others. 
They  are  Gerolamo  Rovetta  and  Marco  Praga.  Al- 
though the  former  wrote  criticisms,  interpretations, 
and  romances,  some  of  which  had  much  success,  the  con- 
tributions by  which  he  is  best  known  are  his  plays. 
Rovetta  studied  contemporary  life  and  depicted  it  for 
the  stage.  His  first  success,  the  one  upon  which 
his  reputation  as  a  man  of  letters  most  solidly  rests, 
"La Trilogia di Dorina"  (" Dorina's Trilogy"),  presents 
the  public  pie,  upper  and  lower  crust  and  middle, 
quite  as  Zola  might  have  made  it.  His  favorite  theme 
was  that  man  is  but  a  reaction  to  his  environment, 
expounded  particularly  in  "I  Disonesti"  ("Dishonest 
Men"),  though  his  greatest  popular  success  was  "Ro- 
manticismo"  ("Romanticism"),  which  was  a  contri- 
bution to  "idealistic  reaction"  which  would  turn  us 
from  ugly  verities  of  life.  It  has  been  said  by  com- 
petent authorities  to  be  a  faithful  presentation  of  pub- 
lic and  private  sentiment  existing  in  northern  Italy 
previous  to  her  deliverance  from  tyrannical  Austria. 

Marco  Praga  is  the  son  of  Emilio  Praga,  who  was 
the  best-known  Bohemian  poet  of  Italy  in  his  day 
(1839-1875),  but  who  abandoned  writing  to  teach 
dramatic  literature  in  the  Conservatory  of  Music  in 
Milan.  He  professes  to  be  the  dramatic  mirror  held 
up  to  life  and  to  tell  the  truth  as  he  sees  it,  that  he 


LITERARY  ITALY  35 

cannot  be  persuaded  to  camouflage  it,  and  that  when 
it  is  depicted  on  the  stage  it  shall  amuse  rather 
than  distress.  That  is  what  makes  his  most  success- 
ful plays,  such  as  "Le  Vergini"  ("The  Virgins")  and 
"La  Moglie  Ideale"  ("The  Ideal  Wife"),  depressing 
reading.  Such  conduct  as  they  depict  and  such  ex- 
change of  thought  and  sentiment  as  they  report  un- 
doubtedly exist,  but  the  less  one  knows  of  it  and 
comes  in  contact  with  it  the  happier  he  or  she  is  likely 
to  be.  If  adultery  could  only  be  made  a  virtue  for  a 
few  years,  it  would  lose  its  attractiveness  and  many 
writers  would  have  to  earn  their  living. 

At  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  Italy  had  three 
women  poets  of  much  distinction,  one  of  whom,  Ada 
Negri,  had  and  still  has  great  popularity.  Her  last 
book  of  poems,  "II  libro  Di  Mara"  ("The  Book  of 
Mara"),  has  shown  that  she  still  has  the  capacity 
to  put  into  verse  dramatically  and  lyrically  the  most 
delicate  and  the  most  dominant  notes  of  love  as  she 
or  as  those  she  has  loved  has  experienced  it.  She  was 
born  in  a  little  village  of  Lombardy  in  1870.  Her 
mother  worked  in  a  factory,  and  she  herself  was  for 
some  years  a  teacher  in  the  elementary  schools;  so  she 
had  first-hand  knowledge  of  the  shut-in  life  of 
those  whose  repressions  and  aspirations  she  sung  and 
published  in  Ulllustrazione  Popolare  of  Milan.  In 
these  she  set  forth  with  great  sincerity  and  with  stir- 
ring lyric  quality  the  sordid  sufferings  and  sorrows  of 
the  toiling  masses.  These  poems  and  others  were  pub- 
lished under  the  titles  of  "Fatality"  and  "The  Tem- 
pest" in  1892  and  1894.  Two  years  later  a  radical 
change  in  her  social  and  spiritual  environment  was 
brought  about  by  her  marriage  to  Signor  Garlanda, 


36  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  soon  she  sang  of  it  in  a  volume  called  "  Maternity," 
which  does  for  that  state  what  her  previous  volumes 
had  done  for  human  pain  and  human  poverty.  "Dal 
Profondo"  ("From  the  Depths")  was  but  a  continua- 
tion of  these  sentiments,  tinctured  with  philosophical 
and  socialistic  knowledge  that  had  been  displayed  for 
other  purpose  in  "The  Tempest."  After  this  came  a 
volume  entitled  "Esilio"  ("Exile"),  which  reflected 
the  same  thoughts  and  sentiments  in  Swiss  light.  She 
has  written  two  prose  works,  a  series  of  short  stories 
entitled  "Le  Solitarie"  and  "Orazioni"  ("Orisons"). 
She  glorifies  purity,  idealizes  it,  and  sings  its  adoration. 
In  the  closing  years  of  the  century  there  was  pub- 
lished in  Milan  a  volume  of  lyrics  by  one  Annie  Vi- 
vanti,  which  was  praised  intemperately  by  Carducci 
and  by  the  Nuova  Antologia.  She  had  some  fiction  to 
her  credit  which  dealt  chiefly  with  the  life  of  the  stage, 
but  her  advent  into  the  world  of  letters  was  like  a 
shooting  star;  nothing  was  known  of  her  origin  save 
that  she  was  said  to  have  been  born  in  London,  and 
there  was  some  mystery  about  her  career.  In  her 
poetry  there  was  a  true  lyric  wail,  especially  in  "De- 
stino"  ("Destiny"),  "NonSaramai"  ("It  Can  Never 
Be"),  that  appealed  tremendously  to  the  public  mind. 
Had  she  been  productive  she  might  have  been  com- 
pared to  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox.  After  her  marriage 
to  Mr.  Chartres,  a  London  journalist,  she  became 
better  known  as  the  mother  of  a  child-wonder  violinist. 
Amongst  her  romances  the  one  which  had  greatest 
popularity  was  entitled  "I  Divoratori"  ("The  De- 
vourers").  It  is  obviously  the  story  of  her  life  and  of 
her  daughter's  career,  the  record  of  filial  shortcomings 
steeped  in  wormwood. 


LITERARY  ITALY  37 

The  third  of  these  interesting  writers,  half  Armenian, 
half  Italian,  was  Vittoria  Aganoor,  who  was  born  in 
Padua  in  1855.  In  1900  she  published  a  volume  called 
1  '  Leggenda  Eterna  "  ("  Eternal  Legend  "),  which  showed 
her  to  be  a  sincere,  impassioned  artist  with  a  pronounced 
leaning  toward  the  sentimental.  She  died  in  London 
in  the  spring  of  1910,  after  a  surgical  operation,  and  a 
few  hours  later  her  husband,  Guido  Pompili,  killed 
himself.  Her  best-known  poems  are  "II  Canto  delF 
Ironia"  ("The  Song  of  Irony"),  "La  vecchia  Anima 
sogna  .  .  ."  ("The  Old  Soul  Dreams"),  "Mama,  sei 
tu?"  ("Mother,  Is  It  Thou?").  A  complete  vol- 
ume of  her  poetry  was  published  in  1912. 

Italians  are  astonished  when  women  make  a  great 
stir  in  the  world.  They  have  had  no  Jeanne  d'Arc  or 
Florence  Nightingale.  Their  historic  women  have 
been  mostly  mystics  who  would  punish  the  flesh  that 
they  might  become  spiritually  pure,  but  the  generation 
that  is  now  passing  has  had  five  women,  four  at  least 
of  whom  will  have  to  be  discussed  by  any  historian 
of  the  intellectual  movement  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  They  are  Matilde  Serao,  Grazia 
Deledda,  Maria  Montessori,  Eusapia  Palladino,  and 
Eleanora  Duse,  and  most  space  will  be  given  to  Duse. 

Matilde  Serao  is  the  Marie  Corelli  of  Italy  with  one 
important  qualification.  She  has  not  been  obliged  to 
subscribe  to  the  rigors  of  convention.  She  has  spoken 
with  great  frankness  about  whole  sides  of  life  which 
Miss  Corelli  knows,  but  about  which  she  has  been 
compelled  to  be  silent.  Not  that  the  romances  of 
Matilde  Serao  are  in  any  sense  pornographic,  but 
she  has  painted  her  subjects  so  vividly  and  registered 
her  sensations  and  impressions  so  sumptuously  that 


38  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

they  are  considered  very  improper  by  Mrs.  Grundy. 
She  was  in  turn  school-teacher,  telegraphist,  journalist, 
publisher,  author,  but  throughout  her  writings  she 
has  kept  the  note  of  the  journalist  who  has  made  a 
careful  study  of  Zola  and  of  Flaubert.  Her  thought 
is  spontaneous,  her  expression  facile,  as  she  depicts 
the  emotions  and  "feelings"  of  her  Neapolitan  char- 
acters, clad  in  rags  or  royal  raiment,  living  in  hovel 
or  in  palace. 

Her  most  successful  books  were  "La  Storia  di  un 
Monaco,"  "II  Ventre  di  Napoli"  ("The  Belly  of 
Naples"),  "II  Paese  della  Cuccagna"  ("The  Land  of 
the  Cockaigne"),  and  "Terno  secco"  in  which  the 
social,  economic,  and  political  world  of  Naples  is  re- 
vealed. With  the  third  of  those  enumerated  she 
tried  to  do  for  lottery-gambling  in  Naples  what  Charles 
Dickens  did  for  the  private  schools  of  England.  Re- 
grettably her  efforts  did  not  have  a  similar  result. 

In  her  Neapolitan  stories  the  local  color  is  not  a 
mere  background,  but  the  very  marrow  of  their  being, 
with  the  result  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  reproduce 
it  adequately  in  translation.  Her  later  books  were 
always  pictures  of  the  professional  lover  in  different 
environments.  He  loves  with  fury  and  usually  for 
a  short  time  only.  His  amatory  conduct  has  no 
ancillae  of  Anglo-Saxon  love-making.  It  is  taurine 
and  satyric.  He  does  not  always  kill  after  the 
embrace,  but  one  gathers  from  his  conduct  that  he 
would  like  to  do  so.  Time  has  tempered  Matilde 
Serao's  erotic  literary  coefficient  and  her  last  books 
are  cool,  more  serene,  and  less  interesting.  One 
of  her  last  books,  "Ella  non  rispose,"  has  recently 
been  translated  into  English  under  the  title  of  "Souls 
Divided." 


LITERARY  ITALY  39 

Grazia  Deledda  has  done  for  her  native  island  of 
Sardinia  that  which  Signora  Serao  did  for  Naples, 
but  to  a  great  extent  she  kept  lubricity  out  of  her 
writings.  In  her  "II  Vecchio  della  Montagna"  ("The 
Old  Man  of  the  Mountain"),  "La  Via  del  Male" 
("Road  to  Evil"),  "Cenere"  ("Ashes"),  "Nostalgia," 
"LTncendio  nelP  Uliveto"  ("The  Burning  in  the  Olive 
Grove"),  and  many  others,  she  depicted  with  won- 
drous accuracy  the  life,  feelings,  struggles,  ambitions, 
infirmities  of  the  Sardinians,  and  painted  their  sordid 
surroundings  and  glorious  scenery.  She  did  for  that 
wonderful  island,  so  strangely  neglected  by  the  mother 
country,  what  Mary  Wilkins  did  for  New  England. 
Her  imagination  was  never  so  vivid  nor  was  her  eye  so 
penetrating  as  that  of  her  Neapolitan  sister,  nor  has 
she  known  the  voluptuous  side  of  life,  seamy  or  em- 
broidered, but  she  has  known  how  to  put  down  in  a 
way  that  engrosses  the  reader's  attention  the  pitiable 
and  pathetic  plights  that  circumstance  and  passion 
force  upon  the  people  with  whom  she  lives.  The  dis- 
play of  their  passions  and  sorrows  are  apparently  as 
familiar  to  her  as  the  landscapes.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, she  does  for  them  that  which  she  does  for  the 
latter.  She  idealizes  them  or,  better  said,  she  strains 
them  through  her  imagination.  In  other  words,  in- 
stead of  recording  them  as  they  are  she  records  them 
as  they  should  be.  Her  novels  give  the  impression  of 
being  photographic  until  you  read  Verga.  Not  that 
the  breath  of  insincerity  which  Croce  said  was  the 
curse  of  Italy's  modern  writers  comes  from  her.  She 
is  most  sincere,  but  her  characters  are  sandman  mani- 
kins into  whose  nostrils  she  has  breathed  the  breath  of 
life.  She  makes  her  characters  do  what  she  might  do 
if  she  were  one  of  them. 


40  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Whether  she  is  tugging  at  the  end  of  her  intellectual 
tether  or  not  remains  to  be  seen,  but  her  recent  work 
has  not  the  spontaneity  and  imaginativeness  of  her 
earlier  books  and  she  is  almost  obsessed  with  describing 
landscapes,  the  advent  and  departure  of  the  sun, 
and  stage-settings  generally.  Her  last  story,  "The 
Burning  in  the  Olive  Grove,"  is  a  conflict  between  the 
present  and  the  past,  and  turns  upon  a  marriage  of 
convention.  It  gives  the  author  the  opportunity  to 
depict  the  imperious  eighty-three-year-old  grand- 
mother, her  useless  brother,  the  farm  lassie  whose 
worldly  success  in  marrying  into  a  family  above  her 
station  she  owes  to  her  beauty,  and  a  pillar  of  feminine 
virtue  who  would  live  her  own  life  in  her  own  way 
despite  the  schemings  of  the  grandmother  of  feu- 
dalists behavior.  The  scene  is  filled  with  character 
studies  which  she  likes  so  well:  the  old  soldier  of 
Garibaldi's  legion,  his  lame  son  whom  the  heroine 
loves,  and  virtuous  heroic  peasantry. 

Several  of  Grazia  Deledda's  novels  have  been  trans- 
lated into  English,  but  they  have  not  had  great  suc- 
cess. She  is  one  of  the  last  of  the  realistic  idealizers. 
The  most  her  admirers  can  hope  that  the  future  will 
do  for  her  is  that  it  will  suggest  to  those  in  search  of 
Sardinian  color  that  they  should  consult  her  writings. 
Neither  the  psychologist  nor  the  literary  craftsman  will 
disturb  her  literary  remains. 

The  most  promising  successor  of  these  women  nov- 
elists is  Clarice  Tartufari,  whose  "Rete  d'Acciaio" 
(" Nets  of  Steel")  is  a  powerful  though  painful  study 
of  the  Sicilian  brand  of  jealousy. 

Arturo  Graf  (1848-1918),  for  many  years  a  pro- 
fessor in  the  University  of  Turin,  was  a  materialistic 


LITERARY  ITALY  41 

poet  whose  productions  during  his  lifetime  were  re- 
ceived with  some  favor  and  are  now  being  given 
high  rating.  Fifteen  years  ago  a  very  flattering  review 
of  his  dramatic  poems,  especially  "Medusa,"  appeared 
in  the  Nuova  Antologia,  and  recently  Signor  Vittorio 
Gian  has  published  in  Gazetta  di  Torino  an  analysis  of 
his  mental  processes  and  an  estimate  of  the  merit  and 
significance  of  his  poetical  productions  which,  should 
they  find  general  acceptance,  may  give  Graf  the  most 
important  position  in  the  poetic  field  since  Pascoli. 
Neither  his  intellectual  reactions  nor  his  point  of 
view,  however,  is  Italian.  They  show  both  his 
Teutonic  origin  and  inclinations.  His  last  verses, 
"Nuove  Rime  della  Selva"  ("New  Rhymes  of  the 
Forest"),  are  full  of  delightful  imagery,  delicate  fantasy, 
and  gentle  sentiment  and  they  do  not  display  the  ma- 
terialism, pessimism,  or  the  figurative  symbolism  of 
his  early  works.  In  1900  he  published  a  psycho- 
logical romance  entitled  "Riscatto"  ("Redemption"), 
admittedly  a  spiritual  autobiography  which  heralded 
and  prepared  his  after-faith,  which  was  thus  also  a  bat- 
tle for  a  faith  against  materialistic  pessimism,  against 
arid  positivism  which  had  seduced  him  and  against 
which  he  reacted.  "He  who  seeks  God  laboriously 
may  become  more  religious  than  he  who  coddles  Him 
in  the  firm  belief  of  having  found  Him."  His  book  of 
poems  published  in  1895  is  the  poet's  voicings  of  his 
struggle  to  this  end.  His  fame  is  greater  as  a  dramatist 
and  litterateur  than  as  a  poet.  Nevertheless  some 
of  his  poetical  writings  show  a  rare  imagery,  a  facile 
capacity  for  description  and  versification,  though  a 
pessimistic  psychology.  His  best-known  poems  are 
entitled  "Venezie"  ("Venices"),  "Le  Rose  sonq  sfio- 


42  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

rite"  ("Faded  Roses"),  "Silenzio"  ("Silence"),  "Ane- 
lito"  ("Longings").  Gian  says  of  him:  "He  did  not 
attain  in  his  career  as  teacher,  writer,  and  poet  that 
outward  recognition  that  fame  and  fortune  usually  be- 
stow on  their  favorites,"  but  as  a  recompense  "he 
was  honored  with  such  hatreds  as  are  never  the  lot 
of  mediocrities  and  which  for  this  very  reason  are  the 
sanction  and  almost  the  guaranty  of  true  worth." 

Much  of  the  interesting  literature  of  the  past  genera- 
tion has  appeared  in  dialect,  especially  the  poetic  liter- 
ature. 

Salvatore  di  Giacomo  must  be  put  at  the  head  of  all 
dialectical  poets  of  Italy.  He  is  very  little  known  to 
English  readers,  because  he  has  been  so  little  trans- 
lated, save  into  German.  He  is  the  librarian  of  the 
National  Library  of  the  Naples  Museum.  The  sub- 
jects of  his  poems  are  drawn  from  Naples  and  its  peo- 
ple, its  beauty  and  their  ardency;  the  realism  of  his 
verse  is  sober,  its  sentiments  are  healthy  and  true  to 
human  nature  but  to  the  human  nature  of  a  voluptu- 
ous, passionate  people.  He  writes  of  love  in  all  its 
aspects,  and  of  death,  physical,  emotional,  and  mental. 
He  knows  the  hopes,  aspirations,  sympathies,  longings, 
customs  of  his  fellow  Neapolitans;  he  knows  them  when 
they  are  ill,  when  they  are  happy,  and  when  they  are 
depressed,  when  they  are  fortunate  and  when  they  are 
seeped  in  misfortune,  and  he  puts  them  into  lyrics 
that  they  understand  and  that  poetasters  praise. 

His  lyrics  have  been  collected  into  one  volume  called 
"Poesie."  He  has  been  called  the  Robert  Burns  of 
Italy,  and  it  is  likely  that  he  deserves  it.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  that  no  one  has  attempted  to  render  him  in 
English. 


LITERARY  ITALY  43 

An  Italian  poet  neglected  and  almost  unknown  dur- 
ing his  lifetime  (1872-1919),  whose  literary  output  was 
very  small,  is  slowly  coming  to  his  estate  and  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  the  coming  generation  will  hail  Ceccardo 
Roccatagliata-Ceccardi  as  one  of  Italy's  greatest  mod- 
ern poets.  "Sonetti  e  Poemi"  contains  practically  all 
of  his  verse  save  a  small  collection  published  when  he 
was  twenty. 


CHAPTER  III 
GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO— POET,  PILOT,  AND  PIRATE 

The  most  conspicuous  name  in  the  annals  of  Italian 
literature  of  the  generation  now  passing  is  that  as- 
sumed by  a  child  or  a  youth  when  the  voice  first  whis- 
pered to  him  that  he  had  been  chosen  to  announce  the 
coming  of  a  new  era,  to  blaze  the  way  for  a  new  social 
andi  inational  life:  Gabriele  D'Annunzio.  He  was  born 
at  Pescara  in  the  Regno,  March  13/  1863,  the  son  of 
Francescopaolo  D'Annunzio  and  of  his  wife,  Luisa  de 
Benedictis  of  Ortona.  A  studied  effort  has  been  made 
to  envelop  his  birth  and  parentage  in  a  mantle  of  mys- 
tery, but  it  has  been  thwarted. 

One  day  of  his  infancy,  in  Ferravilla-on-the-Sea,  sud- 
denly there  came  a  sound  from  heaven  as  of  a  rushing 
mighty  wind.  From  that  moment  the  little  Annun- 
ciator was  filled  with  the  gift  of  verbal  expression. 
He  enhanced  the  endowment  by  diligent  study  in  the 
high  school  at  Prato,  in  Tuscany,  where  he  spent  his 
boyhood.  Thus  did  he  acquire  an  unparalleled  mas- 
tery of  the  Italian  language.  The  gods  of  mythology, 
the  Hellenic  heroes  and  philosophers,  the  emperors 
and  courtesans  of  Pagan  Rome  were  the  loves  of 
his  infancy.  After  Carducci's  "Odi  Barbari"  exploded 
his  poetic  magazine  he  looked  about  to  find  a  god  and 
a  Greek  upon  whom  to  model  his  conduct.  He  re- 
called Dionysus  going  through  the  world  with  Priapus 

44 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  45 

ostentatiously  displaying  the  Phallus,  and  the  die  was 
cast. 

But  he  must  have  a  philosophy  as  well.  He  who 
taught  that  eternal  flux  and  change  is  the  only  actu- 
ality; that  all  phenomena  are  in  a  state  of  continuous 
transition  from  non-existence  to  existence  and  vice 
versa;  that  everything  is  and  is  not;  all  things  are 
and  nothing  remains;  that  all  things  must  be  reduced 
by  way  of  quasi-condensation  to  the  primary  matter 
from  which  they  originated,  in  brief — Heraclitus,  whose 
name  signified  "he  who  rails  at  the  people,"  was  the 
one  that  he  selected.  The  process  of  quasi-reduction 
was  to  be  preceded  by  purification  through  pleasure, 
and  pleasure  was  to  be  obtained  by  stimulation  of  the 
senses.  The  more  they  were  stimulated  the  greater 
became  their  potency  for  purification.  When  he 
looked  about  the  world  he  found  others  had  been  se- 
duced by  Heraclitus.  Nietzsche,  whose  activity  pre- 
ceded D'Annunzio's  by  a  few  years,  was  the  most  con- 
spicuous exponent  of  the  Eternal  Recurrence.  He  too 
taught  a  master  morality,  a  morality  which  says  yea 
to  life  and  nay  to  morals,  rules,  and  conventions. 
Christianity  is  the  moral  code  of  slaves.  Instinct  is  the 
true  wisdom.  The  genesic  instinct  is  the  basis  of  all 
other  instincts.  Therefore  cultivate  it,  for  in  that  way 
one  becomes  a  superman  and  begets  a  race  of  supermen. 
If  we  must  have  a  statue  of  Apollo,  as  Socrates  and 
Christ  taught,  let  us  make  it  a  feminine  figure  and 
place  it  beside  Dionysus,  first  erected  by  animal  men, 
and  around  them  let  us  dance  a  frenzied  tarantella 
while  we  intoxicate  ourselves  with  foaming  wine,  the 
product  of  sensuous  fermentation. 

No  attempt  will  be  made  here  to  put  an  estimate 


46  IDLING  IN  ITALY  ' 

upon  D'Annunzio's  conduct  or  his  accomplishments  of 
the  past  five  years,  save  to  say  that  they  have  been  in 
keeping  with  his  previous  life. 

Literary  criticism  is  concerned  with  the  genius  of 
the  writer  and  the  way  in  which  he  makes  that  genius 
manifest.  It  is  not  concerned  with  the  morals  or  im- 
morality of  his  writing,  and  yet  it  has  to  take  some 
cognizance  of  them,  especially  if  they  are  at  variance 
with  that  which  is  considered  moral  or  approximately 
moral.  No  one  who  is  a  public  figure  or  whose  activi- 
ties are  concerned  with  the  welfare  of  the  public, 
whether  it  be  with  their  diversion,  instruction,  or  pro- 
tection, can  comport  himself  in  a  way  that  is  flagrantly 
offensive  to  the  public  without  showing  the  effect  of 
it  in  his  writings.  For  instance,  a  writer  produces  a 
masterpiece  of  literature,  one  that  has  qualities  of 
conception  and  construction  that  evoke  universal  ad- 
miration. It  has  been  written  for  one  of  three  reasons, 
or  all  of  them.  First,  because  the  artist  has  it  in  him 
and  he  must  externalize  it,  a  creative  craving  that  must 
be  satisfied;  second,  he  has  a  purpose  in  doing  it — he 
wants  to  amuse,  amaze,  or  instruct  people;  third,  he 
wants  to  gain  fame  or  money. 

If  he  is  utterly  oblivious  to  the  two  las*t,  his  writings 
may  be  as  immoral  or  unrighteous  as  he  wishes  to 
make  them.  If  the  public  does  not  wish  to  read  them 
it  need  not,  and  if  it  considers  them  injurious  to  others 
whose  mental  capacity  does  not  enable  them  to  judge 
whether  they  are  proper  or  injurious  they  can  be  sup- 
pressed. If,  however,  the  writer  is  animated  to  pro- 
duction by  either  of  the  latter  two  motives,  he  must 
be  reconciled  to  having  an  estimate  made  of  his  work 
not  only  from  the  point  of  view  of  literary  criticism,  but 


GABRIELE   D'ANNUNZIO  47 

also  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  fitness  of  his  works 
for  literary  consumption.  That  is,  he  must  be  recon- 
ciled to  attempts  at  estimating  whether  or  not  the 
world  would  not  have  been  better  off  without  his 
writings. 

There  are  few  writers  to  whom  these  remarks  apply 
with  greater  force  than  Gabriele  D'Annunzio.  It  is 
generally  admitted  that  he  is  the  most  consummate 
master  of  Italian  verse  now  living.  Though  his  prose 
writings  show  that  he  is  not  a  literary  craftsman  of  the 
first  order,  he  has  understood  that  art  rises  out  of 
our  primal  nature  and  that  it  is  instinctive.  He  has 
sung  the  praises  of  sensualism  as  they  never  have  been 
sung  in  modern  times,  and  he  has  panoplied  the  pre- 
liminaries to  love's  embrace  with  garlands  made  of 
flowers  of  forced  blooming,  artificially  perfumed  and 
colored  so  that  the  average  human  being  does  not  rec- 
ognize them  as  products  of  nature.  He  has  preached 
and  practised  a  moral  code  the  antithesis  of  Christi- 
anity, and  yet  no  one  has  sought  seriously  to  save  his 
soul. 

In  truth,  D'Annunzio  had  tired  the  world  of  him. 
The  people  of  it  were  tired  of  him  as  they  might  have 
been  of  a  radiantly  beautiful  woman  who  had  be- 
come a  gorgeously  decorated  strumpet  constantly  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  the  world  seeking  praise  and  ad- 
miration. When  he  went  to  Paris  the  world  seemed 
to  be  satisfied  that  he  should  disappear  in  that  mael- 
strom, as  it  was  willing  that  a  contemporary  sensuous 
egocentrist  should  disappear  when  he  left  Reading 
Gaol,  but  D'Annunzio  must  enter  upon  the  final  stage 
of  his  mission  from  the  gods,  and  the  Great  War  gave 
him  the  opportunity. 


48  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Although  so  long  a  conspicuous  figure  in  the  public 
eye,  he  has  managed  to  wrap  certain  layers  of  the  man- 
tle of  mystery  about  him  so  closely  that  little  is  known 
of  his  origin  or  of  the  forces  that  contributed  to  the 
making  and  development  of  his  extraordinary  career. 
It  is  confidently  stated  by  those  who  pretend  to  know 
him  that  he  is  a  Jew,  but  he  is  not  claimed  by  Hebrew 
writers, who  are  proud  of  enrolling  Bergson  and  Brandes, 
Spinoza  and  Strauss  in  their  list.  Vainly  offering  his 
life  for  Italy,  he  is  not  somatically,  mentally,  or  emo- 
tionally an  Italian.  Knowing  her  history,  her  tradi- 
tions, and  her  reactions  as  few  of  her  sons  have  known 
them,  until  the  war  he  had  not  sung  her  virtues  or  mir- 
rored her  wondrous  accomplishments  of  nation-build- 
ing. His  face  has  steadily  been  turned  not  toward  the 
east,  where  the  sun  of  her  glory  is  arising,  but  toward 
the  west,  where  he  has  revelled  in  the  resurrected  glows 
of  sunsets  of  pagan  and  Renaissance  days.  He'  has 
treated  his  friends  disdainfully  when  it  suited  his 
whim;  he  has  meted  out  contumely  to  his  adulators 
when  it  pleased  his  fancy;  he  has  disdained  those  who 
have  accused  him;  he  has  passed  unnoticed  those  who 
have  sought  to  belittle  him;  and  he  has  gone  among 
his  superiors  as  if  he  were  their  king.  He  has  been 
called  everything  save  Philistine  and  fool.  He  has 
been  called  the  greatest  literary  figure  of  modern  Italy 
and  it  is  likely  that  he  merits  it. 

He  is  a  poet,  novelist,  dramatist,  journalist,  politician, 
critic,  propagandist,  prophet,  aviator,  hero,  dictator, 
and  self-constituted  arbiter  of  Italy's  destinies. 

Neither  his  peer  nor  his  superior  has  ever  denied 
him  a  rare  imagination,  an  artistic  intelligence  of  ex- 
traordinary range,   depth   and  exquisiteness,   a  stu- 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  49 

pendous  versatility  and  productiveness,  a  tireless  en- 
ergy, a  fearless  daring  and  a  supreme  contempt  for  the 
feelings,  beliefs,  and  accomplishments  of  others. 

There  are  two  ways  of  approaching  an  estimate  of 
D'Annunzio.  One  is  to  analyze  him — to  set  him  up  as  a 
god  or  a  monster  and  to  dissect  him  and  study  the 
elements  of  his  complex  mechanism,  then  put  them  to- 
gether patiently  and  laboriously  as  one  puts  together 
a  jigsaw  picture-puzzle.  It  is  the  tempting  way,  but 
it  risks  injuring  the  sensibilities  of  his  admirers  and  the 
judicially  minded  who  are  so  constituted  that  they 
cannot  pass  judgment  unless  they  are  in  possession  of 
all  the  facts  concerning  him  and  his  career:  what  he 
did  and  the  circumstances  attending  the  doing  of 
them,  that  is,  the  environment  in  which  they  were 
done — both  that  which  he  created  and  that  which  was 
thrust  upon  him.  Finally  they  want  to  view  him  in 
rest  and  in  action.  Then  they  are  ready  to  render  a 
verdict  in  much  the  same  way  as  a  jury  renders  a  ver- 
dict with  or  without  the  analysis  and  summing  up  of 
the  testimony  and  evidence  by  proponent  or  opponent 
advocate.  The  way  of  synthesis  would  be  the  way  to 
approach  an  interpretation  of  D'Annunzio  if  the  man 
were  under  discussion,  but  here  only  an  estimate  of 
his  literary  career  is  attempted. 

There  is  no  dearth  of  evidence  to  show  that  he  was 
a  precocious  child  and  a  youth  of  prodigious  intellec- 
tual acumen  and  prehensility,  of  boundless  self-con- 
fidence and  fathomless  egocentrism.  His  first  collection 
of  verse,  "Primo  Vere"  (" First  Beginnings"),  was 
published  when  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  two  years 
later  he  published  a  second  edition  "  corrected  with 
pen  and  fire  and  augmented."    From  the  beginning  it 


50  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

was  pointed  out  by  critic  and  commentator  that  he 
plagiarized  line  and  verse  from  poets  of  Italy,  such  as 
Giambattista  Marino,  Niccolo  Tommaseo,  and  Giosue 
Carducci,  and  of  other  countries;  but  if  the  accusations 
made  any  impression  upon  him  it  was  not  evident  in 
his  future  conduct,  for  later  he  took  from  Verga  and 
Capuana,  from  Nietzsche  and  Tolstoy,  from  Maeter- 
linck and  Flaubert,  from  Ibsen  and  Dostoievsky,  and 
from  countless  others  that  which  it  pleased  him  to 
take. 

His  fame  in  Italy  as  a  poet  was  heralded  by  the  poet 
Giuseppe  Chiarini,  who  published  an  article  which  did 
for  him  what  Octave  Mirabeau's  article  in  the  Figaro 
of  August  24,  1890,  did  for  Maeterlinck.  Before  he 
had  reached  his  maturity  he  was  hailed  as  the  coming 
poet,  whose  originality  was  admirable,  whose  sensuality 
was  shocking  but  acceptable,  whose  versatility  was 
marvellous.  There  is  nothing  morbid,  decadent,  or 
blatant  in  his  early  poems.  In  the  "  Canto  Novo," 
published  in  1882,  he  displayed  the  torridity  of  his  tem- 
perament, the  splendor  of  his  imagination,  the  ardency 
of  his  loves,  and  the  implacability  of  his  hatreds.  It 
swept  like  a  fire  over  Italy.  It  was  a  lyric  of  the  joy 
of  life,  "the  immense  joy  of  living,  of  being  strong,  of 
being  young,  of  biting  with  eager  teeth  the  fruits  of 
the  earth,  of  looking  with  flaming  eyes  upon  the  divine 
face  of  the  world,  as  a  lover  looks  upon  his  mistress." 
It  was  followed  in  quick  succession  by  "  Terra  Vergine," 
"Intermezzo  di  Rime,"  and  "II  libro  delle  Vergini" 
("The  Book  of  the  Virgins"),  which  enhanced  his 
reputation  and  caused  the  Italians  to  hail  him  intem- 
perately. 

He  then  went  to  Rome  and  began  work  as  a  journal- 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  51 

ist,  but  this  did  not  interfere  with  his  output  of  poetry, 
and  by  1892,  when  he  began  publishing  romances,  he 
had  established,  by  the  publication  of  "Isaotta  Gutta- 
dauro,"  the  "Elegie  romane"  and  the  "Odi  navali," 
a  reputation  with  the  reading  public  of  being  the  most 
appealing,  most  satisfying  poet  in  Italy,  and  the  critics 
were  not  at  all  sure  he  would  not  surpass  Carducci, 
who  was  then  considered  Italy's  greatest  poet  and 
whose  fame  has  steadily  increased. 

His  fame  as  a  poet  being  established  to  his  own  satis- 
faction he  turned  to  the  field  of  romance,  and  in  the 
next  five  years  (1893-1898)  there  flowed  from  the 
printing-presses  a  series  of  romances  that  veritably 
flooded  literary  Italy:  "LTnnocente,"  "II  Piacere," 
"Giovanni  Episcopo,"  "Trionfo  della  Morte,"  "Le 
Vergini  delle  Rocce,"  "Forse  che  si  forse  che  no,"  and 
the  "Novelle  della  Pescara."  They  had  a  quality  that 
is  not  easily  characterized  by  word  or  brief  descrip- 
tion. They  were  "sensuous,"  "decadent,"  "daring," 
"shocking,"  "brilliant."  They  were  modelled  on 
Flaubert,  Prevost,  Huysmans;  they  were  saturated 
with  the  philosophy  of  Nietzsche,  the  psychology  of 
Ibsen,  the  mysticism  of  Maeterlinck,  the  morality  of 
Petronius;  they  reek  of  the  bestialities  of  Wilde  and 
Verlaine;  they  are  the  glorification  of  pagan  ethics; 
they  are  the  apotheosis  of  lust.  But  they  were  read, 
discussed,  admired,  praised,  not  only  in  Italy  but  the 
world  over.  I  doubt  that  praise  was  ever  given  so 
lavishly,  so  widely,  and  so  unjustifiably  as  was  given  to 
this  series  of  romances,  which  to-day,  a  generation 
after  their  publication,  are  as  constant  a  reminder  of  a 
wayward  step  which  Italian  literature  took  at  the  end 
of  the  nineteenth  century  as  the  linea  alba  on  the 


52  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

torso  of  a  woman  whose  reputation  for  virtue  is  es- 
tablished and  admitted  reminds  her  of  a  faux  pas  of 
her  youth. 

In  these  volumes  the  author  showed  that  he  had 
a  marvellous  capacity  to  depict  states  of  exalted 
sensibility;  that  he  had  an  extraordinary,  almost 
superhuman  sensitiveness  to  beauty  as  it  is  revealed 
in  nature  and  in  art;  that  he  had  a  clairvoyant  knowl- 
edge of  the  activity  of  the  unconscious  mind  of  human 
beings  and  how  it  conditions  their  behavior  under  cir- 
cumstances and  environments  fortuitous  or  chosen — in 
other  words,  until  it  is  revealed  to  them  behavioris- 
tically;  that  he  had  a  comprehensive  familiarity  with 
plastic  and  pictorial  art;  an  intimacy  with  ancient  his- 
tory and  modern  literature  that  was  stupendous,  and 
withal  a  capacity  to  externalize  his  visions,  his  emo- 
tional elaboration,  and  his  mental  content  in  words  so 
linked  together  that  the  very  juxtaposition  of  them  is  a 
pleasure  to  the  eye  and  a  satisfaction  to  the  soul. 

But  that  which  he  knew  best  of  all  was  the  history 
of  eroticism.  Not  only  was  he  familiar  with  its  an- 
cestry to  the  remotest  time,  but  he  had  guarded  its 
infant  days  with  such  solicitude  that  he  knew  every 
impression  that  worldly  contact  made  upon  its  plastic 
consciousness,  and  when  it  got  its  growth  he  set  to  work 
to  ornament  it  so  that  contact  with  it  would  be  the 
apogee  of  all  beauty,  intimacy  with  it  the  purpose  of  all 
ambition,  union  with  it  the  object  of  all  strife. 

There  are  features  of  his  romances  that  cannot  be 
adequately  praised;  there  are  features  that  cannot 
be  sufficiently  condemned.  A  poem  that  contains  no 
particular  thought  may  excite  our  profoundest  ad- 
miration, just  as  does  a  papier-mache  triumphal  arch 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  53 

or  monument;  but  a  romance  or  novel  depicts  some 
phase  or  aspect  of  life,  reveals  man's  aspirations  or 
accomplishments,  his  behaviors  and  reactions  under 
certain  conditions,  reflects  his  nobilities,  depicts  his 
frailties,  and  extols  his  ambitions  and  what  he  would 
like  to  do,  experience,  or  accomplish.  In  a  general 
way,  it  is  expected  that  it  shall  be  tuned  to  an  ethical 
pitch  that  will  not  give  offense  to  the  man  of  average 
Christian  or  pagan  morality,  or  outrage  universally 
accepted  and  acceptable  convention.  The  most  suc- 
cessful horticulturist  in  the  world  would  find  no  mar- 
ket for  his  roses,  even  though  they  were  more  exquisite 
than  those  of  all  other  florists,  should  he  impregnate 
them  with  a  scent  obtained  from  the  Mustelidae.  This 
is  what  D'Annunzio  did. 

It  would  be  very  difficult  to  find  a  religion,  a  form  of 
government,  a  code  of  ethics,  a  type  of  beauty,  a  map 
of  life,  a  canon  of  morals,  a  custom,  habit,  or  a  con- 
vention that  something  could  not  be  said  in  praise  of  it. 
Bolshevism  has  its  attractive  facet,  even  though  the 
present-day  proponents  of  it  have  got  it  so  deeply  sub- 
merged in  the  mire  of  ambition  and  power,  and  so 
defaced  with  lust  for  revenge  that  it  cannot  be  rec- 
ognized. There  is  scarcely  any  form  of  those  various 
indulgences  and  commissions  which  are  labelled  "vice" 
that  have  not  some  commendable  and  praiseworthy 
feature,  but  there  is  one  aberration  of  human  conduct 
that  has  never  had  a  champion  in  the  open.  It  is  incest, 
and  Gabriele  D'Annunzio  is  its  champion.  Concealed 
or  openly,  it  goes  through  his  writings  with  the  same 
constancy  that  streams  flow  through  plains  that  go  out 
from  glacier  mountains.  In  the  English  translations 
of  his  romances  elaborate  descriptions  of  other  forms 


54  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

of  perversion  of  the  genesic  instinct  have  been  largely 
expurgated,  but  it  is  impossible  to  purge  them  en- 
tirely of  the  incest  theme,  for  in  many  of  his  writings  it 
is  beyond  the  verbal  description.  It  is  the  atmosphere 
of  the  book.  Take,  for  instance,  the  novel  "L'lnno- 
cente."  On  the  face  of  it,  it  is  the  narration  of  the 
conduct  of  a  man  who,  having  wedded  a  superior  woman 
of  great  intellectual  charm  and  bodily  attractions, 
yields  to  the  temptations  of  the  life  of  dissipation  in 
which  he  had  distinguished  himself  previous  to  an 
ideal  matrimony  and  a  contented  paternity.  He 
realizes  that  his  digressions  are  scandalous,  and  that 
their  frequent  deliberate  repetitions  justify  his  wife  in 
living  apart  from  him,  though  her  love,  being  beyond 
control,  still  continues.  They  agree  to  live  with  each 
other  as  brother  and  sister.  The  moment  he  succeeds 
in  placing  her  in  his  soul  as  his  sister  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse seizes  him  to  have  carnal  possession  of  her, 
and  the  burden  of  the  book  is  a  description  of  his 
seduction  of  his  own  wife,  who  in  the  new  covenant 
is  his  sister.  Meanwhile  with  consummate  art  he 
has  described  in  the  first  chapter  as  the  only  true 
love  that  which  exists  between  brother  and  sister, 
his  apostrophe  of  it  having  been  called  forth  by  re- 
calling the  sister  whom  death  had  fortunately  removed. 
Before  he  has  accomplished  the  seduction  of  his 
wife-sister  he  has  precipitated  her  into  a  vulgar  ad- 
venture with  his  own  brother,  a  pattern  of  all  the  vir- 
tues. It  is  a  part  of  his  consummate  art  to  create  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  that  will  tend  to  put  the  paternity 
of  her  child  upon  a  fellow  author  who  in  other  days 
had  been  civil  and  courteous  to  his  wife,  and  had  sent 
her  a  copy  of  his  latest  book  with  an  enigmatical  inscrip- 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  55 

tion  on  the  fly-leaf,  but  in  reality  he  succeeds  in  cre- 
ating an  atmosphere  from  which  one  senses  with 
readiness  that  the  real  father  is  his  brother.  The 
book,  in  so  far  as  it  is  concerned  with  the  nobility 
of  Giuliana,  the  sweetness  of  life  in  the  country,  the 
lovability  of  her  mother  and  her  children,  the  way  in 
which  Giuliana's  emotions  and  thought  after  the  advent 
of  the  child  are  shaped  that  she  may  grow  to  hate  it  as 
he  hates  it,  as  well  as  the  mental  elaborations  that 
justify  him  in  seeking  to  destroy  it,  and  the  accom- 
plishment of  it,  are  done  in  a  way  that  shows  the 
author  to  be  not  only  intimately  familiar  with  the 
workings  of  the  normal  human  mind  but  with  the 
depraved  human  mind. 

From  the  beginning  of  his  literary  career  D'Annunzio 
was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  that  he  was  the  model  from 
which  he  painted  his  heroes.  The  reader  who  identi- 
fies him  with  Tullio  Hermil  is  the  perspicacious  reader, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  author;  the  reader  who  considers 
the  conduct  of  Tullio,  infracting  as  it  does  the  canons 
of  law,  of  morality,  and  of  decency,  as  the  conduct  of 
a  superman,  is,  in  the  judgment  of  the  author,  the  sa- 
pient reader.  He  who  sees  in  Tullio  and  his  conduct 
a  beast  abnormally  freighted  with  lubricity,  lacking  in 
inhibitory  qualities  of  a  man  unguided  and  unin- 
fluenced by  any  obligation  to  God  or  man,  and  know- 
ing no  other  obligation  than  the  pursuit  of  his  own 
pleasures  and  desires,  is  a  fool,  a  weakling,  an  inanimate 
mass  of  protoplasm  moulded  in  the  form  of  a  human 
being  unworthy  of  consideration.  D'Annunzio  con- 
ceived himself  a  superman  long  before  he  began  to  write 
romances,  and  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  believe  that 
he  got  his   conception   from   Nietzsche.     He  got   it 


56  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

from  the  same  indescribable  source  that  that  unbal- 
anced monster  of  materialism  got  his.  Its  roots  if  they 
could  be  traced  back  to  the  days  of  the  Hebrew  prophets 
would  be  found  to  have  their  germinal  sprouts  in  some 
descendant  of  Samuel  or  David. 

D'Annunzio's  romances  are  a  mixture  of  material- 
ism, sensualism,  and  pessimism  reduced  in  a  pagan 
mortar  to  a  homogeneous  consistency,  and  then  skil- 
fully admixed  with  honey  so  that  it  is  acceptable  to  the 
Christian  palate,  but,  once  it  has  got  beyond  the  taste- 
buds  of  the  tongue,  once  it  is  taken  into  the  system, 
its  poisonous,  corroding,  and  destructive  qualities 
become  operative.  I  doubt  if  D'Annunzio  ever  wrote 
a  word  or  line  in  his  plays  or  romances  that  any  one 
was  the  better  for  having  read  or  heard,  and  by  better 
I  mean  that  he  added  to  his  spiritual  possessions,  to 
his  inherent  nobility,  or  to  his  aspirations  for  a  moral 
perfection,  one  iota.  I  doubt  if  any  normal  human 
being,  normal  physically,  mentally,  and  spiritually, 
can  read  "II  Piacere"  without  feeling  ill  and  humiliated, 
not  because  of  the  picture  that  the  author  draws  of 
himself  in  the  guise  of  Andrea  Sperelli,  this  finished 
expert  in  the  employments  of  love,  nor  of  Donna  Maria, 
nor  of  the  woman  more  infernally  expert  in  those 
matters,  nor  the  score  of  other  characters  which  he 
paints  with  a  master-hand,  but  because  of  the  way 
in  which  he  draws  his  bow  across  the  overtaut  strings 
of  sensuousness  until  they  scream  and  wail  in  frenzied 
fashion  and  then  finally  burst  asunder.  The  way  in 
which  he  makes  an  appeal  to  his  perverted  sensuality 
through  vicarious  overstimulation  of  the  senses  with 
which  he  was  endowed  for  self-conservation  and  self- 
preservation,  the  senses  of  smell  and  sight  and  touch 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  57 

and  hearing,  is  in  itself  a  perversion.  He  stimulates 
them  until  they  shriek  for  mercy  or  for  immersion  in 
some  benumbing  balm.  The  true  pervert  is  he  who 
puts  out  of  proportion  and  out  of  perspective  the 
sources  of  aesthetic  emanation,  and  who  concentrates 
them  upon  the  percipient  apparatus  of  one  or  other 
of  the  senses  so  that  it  may  be  excited  to  a  frenzied 
activity.  The  description  of  Andrea's  room,  in  which 
he  awaits  Donna  Maria,  with  its  perfumes,  lights,  and 
colors,  and  the  description  of  his  toilet  articles  and 
his  bedroom  is  one  of  the  most  nauseating  things  in 
all  literature.  Like  Nietzsche,  D'Annunzio  looks  upon 
women  as  creatures  of  an  inferior  race,  instruments  of 
pleasure  and  procreation  who  were  created  to  serve. 
When  they  no  longer  are  amusing,  useful,  or  service- 
able they  are  to  be  brushed  aside  and  with  the  same 
sang  froid  as  one  would  put  aside  an  automobile  that 
had  broken  down,  worn  out,  or  because  it's  "corpo 
non  e*  piu  giovane,"  as  he  kept  saying  of  Foscarina  in 
"II  Fuoco,"  who  belonged  to  him  "like  the  thing  one 
holds  in  his  fist,  like  the  ring  on  one's  finger,  like  "a 
glove,  like  a  garment,  like  a  word  that  may  be  spoken 
or  not,  like  a  draft  that  may  be  drunk  or  poured  on 
the  ground." 

In  "Vergini  delle  Rocce"  he  expounds  the  theory 
that  inequality  is  the  essence  of  the  state,  and  in  this 
book  as  well  as  in  "II  Trionfo  della  Morte"  we  find 
all  the  passion  of  language  and  of  sentiment  that  one 
finds  in  Nietzsche.  It  is  no  longer  to  be  doubted  that 
he  had  kept  his  word  "noi  tendiamo  Torecchio  alia 
voce  del  magnanimo  Zarathustra  e  prepariamo  nelP 
arte  con  sicura  fede  Tawento  del  Uebermensch  del 
superuomo" — we  listen  to  the  voicing  of  the  magnani- 


58  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

mous  Zarathustra  and  we  prepare  with  unfaltering 
faith  for  the  coming  of  the  superman  to  the  arts. 

In  his  life  of  Cola  di  Rienzo  D'Annunzio  again  took 
occasion  to  lampoon  and  traduce  the  common  people, 
describing  them  as  the  great  beast  which  must  be 
crushed  and  annihilated.  "II  Trionfo  della  Morte" 
is  the  very  essence  of  Heraclitan  philosophy  and 
Dionysan  ethics.  The  hero,  who  is  a  paragon  of 
knowledge  which  he  displays  for  the  reader's  edifica- 
tion, meets  the  young  and  pretty  wife  of  a  business 
man  who  bores  her.  He  is  successful  finally  in  per- 
mitting her  to  pass  a  few  weeks  with  him  in  his  villa 
by  the  sea.  During  these  weeks  they  run  the  gamut 
of  every  conceivable  sensation  and  the  reader  gets  a 
description  of  them  and  of  the  gradual  hatred  that 
develops  in  him  for  his  subjection  of  her.  "Every 
human  soul  carries  in  it  for  love  a  definite  quality  of 
sensitive  force.  This  quality  is  used  up  with  time 
and  when  it  is  used  up  no  effort  can  prevent  love  from 
ceasing."  But/ unlike  the  animal  when  his  concupi- 
scence is  satiated  and  he  is  still  urged  to  greater  display, 
the  hero  is  not  content  with  driving  her  from  him;  he 
must  needs  mete  out  the  same  fate  to  her  that  he  did 
to  the  infant  in  "II  Piacere,"  so  he  lures  her  to  the 
edge  of  a  sea  cliff  and  hurls  her  into  space.  "She 
would  in  death  become  for  me  matter  of  thought, 
pure  ideality;  from  a  precarious  and  imperfect  existence 
she  would  enter  into  an  existence  complete  and  defi- 
nite, forsaking  forever  the  infirmities  of  her  weak, 
luxurious  flesh.  Destroy  to  possess.  There  is  no 
other  way  for  him  who  seeks  the  absolute  in  love." 

The  reader  yields  to  the  enchantment  of  his  style, 
to  the  seductiveness  of  his  lyrism,  to  the  intoxications 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  59 

of  his  descriptions  of  beauty;  and  the  critic  and  fellow 
writer  to  his  mastery  of  technic  and  consummate 
mastery  of  behavioristic  psychology.  From  the  critics' 
point  of  view  "The  Triumph  of  Death "  and  "The 
Fire"  are  the  high-water  marks  of  D'Annunzio  as  a 
stylist,  and  they  mark  his  completest  moral  dissolu- 
tion. 

In  "II  Fuoco"  we  get  the  same  ethics,  philosophy, 
aesthetics,  and  glorification  of  sensuousness  that  we 
get  in  all  his  other  books.  Here  the  two  leading  char- 
acters are  exact  replicas  of  himself  and  of  the  world's 
greatest  actress  of  her  day  portrayed  in  an  environ- 
ment, Venice,  that  is  redolent  of  beauty  in  decay,  like 
a  cracked  Grecian  vase  overfilled  with  withered  rose 
leaves  which  fall  from  it  at  every  puff  of  wind.  This 
environment  makes  an  ideal  palette  upon  which  he 
blends  the  colors  whose  pigments  he  has  been  select- 
ing and  experimenting  with  for  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury. The  publication  of  it  promoted  his  voluntary 
exile  from  Italy.  His  fellow  countrymen  could  not 
condone  the  monstrous  offense  of  depicting  therein  as 
the  pliant  mediator  of  his  perverted  sensuousness 
their  beloved  actress.  And  they  have  not  yet  forgiven 
him,  nor  are  they  likely  to  forgive  him. 

After  D'Annunzio  had  established  a  reputation  as  a 
neoromanticist  with  a  classical  tendency  he  turned  to 
drama,  and  the  year  1897  marked  his  advent  into  that 
field.  His  first  efforts,  three  one-act  parables — "The 
Foolish  Virgins  and  the  Wise  Virgins,"  "The  Rich 
Man  and  Poor  Lazarus,"  and  "The  Prodigal  Son" — 
were  published  in  the  Mattino  of  Naples,  a  newspaper 
controlled  by  the  husband  of  his  friend  and  fellow 
writer,  Matilde  Serao.    They  are  noteworthy  merely 


60  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

to  show  the  way  in  which  a  sensuous  pagan  can  trans- 
form simple  characters  into  decadent,  perverted  pros- 
elyters  of  pleasure.  It  was  not  until  he  wrote  "The 
Dream  of  a  Spring  Morning"  and  "The  Dream  of  an 
Autumn  Sunset"  that  he  displayed  the  same  measure 
of  lascivious  imagery  and  capacity  for  description  of 
the  perverse  manifestations  of  eroticism  that  he  re- 
vealed in  his  romances.  These  were  revealed  in  lines 
that  truly  may  be  said  to  be  masterpieces  of  lyric 
beauty,  and  when  the  Mad  Woman  of  the  first  and  the 
Messalina  of  the  second  were  interpreted  by  Eleanora 
Duse  the  musical  sound  of  the  words  and  the  emo- 
tional force  of  the  sentiment  gained  a  quality  of  im- 
portance and  grandeur  which  enhanced  their  inherent 
qualities. 

In  "La  Citta  Morta,"  his  most  successful  drama,  he 
returned  to  his  favorite  topic,  incest.  Though  his  pur- 
pose in  writing  it,  the  most  successful  of  all  his  dramas, 
was  to  revive  in  form,  structure,  and  unity  the  Greek 
drama,  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  display  his 
knowledge  of  the  classics  and  archaeology.  The  phi- 
losophy and  mysticism  of  the  play  he  got  from  Maeter- 
linck. Its  theme  is  lust  and  crime.  Lust  is  portrayed 
in  almost  every  conceivable  form  of  perversion,  in 
poetic  thoughts  and  graceful  diction,  especially  in  the 
delineation  of  Leonardo,  the  explorer,  who  lusts  for 
his  sister.  The  dreamy,  meditative  languor  of  the 
dramatis  personse,  their  insensitiveness  to  every  form 
of  ethical  conformation,  their  perversion  of  every  form 
of  moral  relationship,  constitute  an  atmosphere  that 
the  northerner  does  not  breath  pleasurably.  It  was 
thoroughly  purged  before  it  was  put  on  the  boards  in 
this  country. 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  61 

His  next  play,  u  La  Gioconda,"  is  an  exposition  of  the 
exemption  which  D'Annunzio  thinks  the  artist  of  his 
own  superman  caliber  should  have  from  conforming 
to  the  laws  of  estate  or  custom.  The  contention  is  a 
simple  one.  He  should  do  anything  that  he  pleases — 
which  means  give  himself  over  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
senses  and  the  appetites  until  the  indulgence  is  fol- 
lowed by  satiety  and  thus  his  progress  toward  perfec- 
tion through  gratification  of  desires  will  be  accom- 
plished. After  satiety  comes  disgust,  and  then  a 
period  of  dementia,  but  this  is  merely  the  prelude  to 
another  fling  of  erotic  fury  in  his  conformation  to  the 
doctrine  of  purification  through  pleasure. 

The  hero  is  a  psychopathic  individual,  sensitive, 
aboulic,  distractible,  impressionable,  impulsive,  vacil- 
lating, and  suicidal.  He  is  married  to  a  woman  who 
apparently  has  every  beauty  of  soul  and  body  that  a 
woman  can  have.  But,  alas,  she  is  virtuous!  She 
has  not  the  key  to  the  jewel-casket  of  his  genius. 
That  is  possessed  by  his  model  Gioconda  Dianti,  the 
source  of  all  his  inspirations.  One  quiver  of  her 
eyelid  causes  his  soul  to  dissolve  like  sugar  in  water, 
while  two  make  him  feel  that  he  is  lord  of  the  universe. 

The  tragedy  of  the  play  is  the  permanent  mutilation 
of  the  wife's  hands,  the  only  somatic  feature  that  has 
"appealed"  to  the  artist.  She  attempts  to  save  his 
masterpiece  which  the  model  pushes  over  in  temper  on 
being  told  falsely  that  she  is  to  be  banished.  Her 
mutilated  hands  serve  to  remind  her  the  rest  of  her 
life  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward. 

The  two  dramas  of  D'Annunzio  which  are  best 
known  to  the  English-speaking  public  are  "La  Figlia 
d'Jorio"  and  "Francesca  di  Rimini."     "The  Daughter 


62  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

of  Jorio"  is  a  tragedy  laid  in  the  mountains  of  Abruzzi. 
D'Annunzio  knows  the  customs,  habits,  and  tra- 
ditions of  the  shepherds  and  mountaineers,  their  super- 
stitions and  emotions,  as  he  knows  art,  archaeology,  and 
eroticism.  The  first  act  is  a  description  of  the  be- 
trothal of  the  son  of  a  brutal  shepherd  to  a  simple 
girl  with  whom  he  is  not  particularly  in  love.  At 
the  ceremony  of  betrothal  the  daughter  of  Jorio,  who 
is  suspected  to  have  evil  powers,  claims  protection  from 
certain  shepherds  who  had  designs  upon  her.  The 
first  impulse  of  the  joyous  party  was  to  cast  her  out, 
but  when  the  betrothed  young  man  was  about  to 
do  so  he  saw  behind  her  his  lustful  desire  presented 
to  his  eyes  in  the  guise  of  an  angel,  which  made  him 
hesitate,  and  the  daughter  of  Jorio  was  allowed  to  re- 
main. In  the  next  act  he  is  seen  as  her  lover.  He 
quarrels  about  her  with  his  father  and  kills  him.  The 
parricide's  punishment  is  to  be  sewed  into  a  sack  with 
a  dog,  a  cock,  a  viper,  and  a  monkey  and  cast  into 
the  sea.  The  daughter  of  Jorio  comes  to  the  rescue 
and  convinces  the  people  that  she  is  the  real  criminal. 
Eros  is  unconquerable. 

In  "Francesca  di  Rimini/ '  a  historical  play  filled 
with  erudite  archaeological  details,  he  displays  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  thirteenth  century  and  of  the  customs  of 
the  time  which  has  never  been  excelled  save  by  his- 
torical writers.  It  is  a  picture  of  war  and  bloodshed, 
of  treachery  and  accusation.  The  central  theme  is  the 
love  of  Francesca  and  Paolo.  They  may  be  taken  as 
the  typical  human  beings  of  the  thirteenth-century 
Italy,  fond  of  luxury  and  beautiful  things  but  savage 
in  their  reactions.  Perhaps  Francesca  is  one  of  the 
best  feminine  figures  that  D'Annunzio  has  ever  drawn. 


GABRIELE   D'ANNUNZIO  63 

In  1904  there  appeared  two  volumes  entitled  "  Praises 
of  the  Sky,  the  Sea,  the  Earth  and  of  Heroes.' '  After 
that  period  his  tragedies,  "The  Light  under  the 
Bushel,"  "The  Ship,"  "Fedra,"  and  "The  Mystery  of 
San  Sebastian"  appeared  in  French,  and  soon  he 
adopted  France  as  his  home,  having  previously  pub- 
lished a  spiritual  autobiography  of  eight  thousand  four 
hundred  lines  entitled  "Laus  Vitae,"  in  which  he  sum- 
marizes the  motives  of  his  past  and  lays  the  basis  of 
his  new  inspiration. 

D'Annunzio's  war  poems  have  all  been  inspired  with 
the  belief  that  Italy's  future  lies  on  the  sea.  It  is 
much  to  be  regretted  that  they  have  not  yet  been  col- 
lected into  a  single  volume.  When  it  is  done  he  will 
not  unlikely  be  recognized  as  the  most  legitimate  of 
Pindar's  descendants.  Undoubtedly  he  will  want  them 
to  be  the  conspicuous,  permanent  wreath  on  his  tomb. 
The  Libyan  War  inspired  him  to  the  production  of  his 
noblest  war  poetry,  "Canzoni  della  Gesta  d'Oltremare" 
("Songs  of  Achievements  across  the  Sea"). 

In  the  "Canzoni  di  Mario  Bianco"  he  foresaw  the 
beginning  of  a  new  era  for  Italy,  and  he  forecast  the 
aspirations  and  promises  of  the  third  Italy.  His 
"Canzone  del  Quarnaro"  describes  the  raid  of  the  three 
Italian  torpedo-boats  on  the  Buccari,  a  few  miles  to  the 
southeast  of  Fiume.  It  is  short  and  forceful.  The 
introductory  "beffa"  describes  the  raid  in  detail. 
D'Annunzio  is  inordinately  fond  of  using  Christian 
imagery,  and  he  reverts  to  it  here  in  the  distribution 
of  his  little  tricolor  flags,  which  has  a  mystic  import. 
"It  is  a  true  eucharistic  sacrament,  the  closest  and 
most  complete  communion  of  the  spirit  with  beautiful 
Italy.    There  is  no  need  of  consecrating  words;    the 


64  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tricolor  wafer  was  converted  through  our  faith  into 
the  living  beauty  of  our  country.  We  are  purified, 
we  are  sundered  from  the  shore  and  from  our  daily 
habits,  separated  from  the  land  and  all  vulgar  cares, 
from  our  homes  and  from  all  useless  idleness,  from 
profane  love  and  all  base  desires;  we  are  immune  from 
the  thought  of  return." 

The  "Cantico  per  Pottava  della  Vittoria"  is  a  wish 
fulfilment  for  him.  As  the  boat  enters  the  Quarnaro 
and  runs  up  the  coast  of  Istria  it  is,  for  D'Annunzio, 
the  guarantor  of  the  treaty  of  London,  and  he  sees  all 
the  cities  and  islands  of  this  coast  restored  to  Italy, 
and  these  cities  and  all  the  places  hallowed  by  the  war 
join  in  the  paean  of  triumph. 

In  " Songs  of  Achievements  across  the  Sea"  D'An- 
nunzio  established  an  incontestable  claim  to  be  the 
great  inspiring  poet,  even  the  prophet,  of  his  genera- 
tion in  Italy,  and  he  produced  work  which  has  not  been 
surpassed,  but  he  was  still  the  poet  only,  singer  of  the 
deeds  of  others,  in  which  he  had  no  share  himself. 
The  contrast  between  his  pretensions  and  his  achieve- 
ments made  the  affectations  of  his  early  years  appear 
ridiculous  to  many  people,  and  tended  to  obscure  the 
true  value  of  his  work.  He  was  still  seeking  and  the 
years  that  followed  in  Paris  showed  that  he  had  dis- 
covered no  new  world  to  explore,  but  when  Italy  joined 
the  Allies  he  suddenly  found  himself.  All  the  brooding 
sense  of  incomplete  achievement  of  other  days  vanished 
in  a  moment.  The  speeches  and  addresses  that  he 
delivered  between  May  4  and  25,  1915,  showed  that 
he  had  been  preparing  for  what  he  knew  would  be 
"The  Day"  for  him. 

It  was  widely  believed  in  Italy  in  1917  and  1918  that 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  65 

on  the  evening  of  May  4,  1915,  when  D'Annunzio 
addressed  a  meeting  at  Quarto  to  commemorate  an 
anniversary  of  Garibaldi's  departure  with  his  faithful 
thousand  to  deliver  Sicily  and  Naples  from  the  Bour- 
bon yoke,  and  a  few  days  later  when  he  addressed  them 
in  the  Costanzi  Theatre  in  Rome  and  then  went  with 
the  enormous  crowd  to  ring  the  bell  of  the  Campi- 
doglio,  the  signal  was  given  for  the  declaration  of  war 
against  Austria  and  Germany. 

The  last  books  of  D'Annunzio,  illustrating  his  new 
attitude  toward  life,  are  "La  Leda  senza-cigno"  ("Leda 
without  the  Swan"),  "Per  la  piu  grande  Italia"  ("For 
Greater  Italy"),  "La  Beffa  di  Buccari"  ("Buccari's 
Joke"),  "LaRiscossa"  ("The  Rescue"),  "Bestetti  e 
Tiiminelli"  ("Italy  and  Death"),  "Contro  Uno  e 
contro  Tutti"  ("Against  One  and  against  All"),  and 
a  series  of  volumes  under  the  title  of  "The  Archives  of 
Icarius,"  which  are  all  concerned  with  incidents  in  the 
Great  War. 

It  is  too  soon  to  attempt  to  guess  the  pedestal  that 
posterity  will  allot  Gabriele  D'Annunzio  in  the  gallery 
of  fame.  The  committee  that  will  do  it  will  estimate 
his  qualifications  of  lyric  poet  and  Hellenic  dramatist 
— perhaps  as  warrior. 

D'Annunzio  is  a  poet  who  abounds  in  lyrical  ecstacies. 
His  style  is  the  most  remarkable  thing  about  him.  He 
describes  armor,  architecture,  archaeology  like  an  ex- 
pert. He  knows  the  dynamic  point  of  view.  He 
knows  how  to  depict  dramatic  situations.  His  per- 
sonages are  ail  living  personages.  He  is  concerned 
with  the  neurotic,  decadent,  hectic,  temperamental 
type  of  human  beings.  All  his  characters  have  a  love 
of  beauty.    He  is  the  true  decadent  of  the  nineteenth- 


66  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

century  literature,  to  whom  the  decadent  French  sym- 
bolists cannot  hold  a  candle. 

After  he  had  sucked  the  luscious  orange  of  Italy 
dry  and  eaten  of  its  pomegranates  to  satiety;  after 
he  had  exhausted  sensation  in  the  search  for  sensation 
and  he  could  no  longer  hope  for  stimulation  from  vision, 
from  image,  from  sound,  from  color;  when  the  nets 
of  Eros  were  so  lacerated  and  worn  from  having  been 
dragged  upon  the  rocks  and  crags  of  life;  when  Italian 
food,  though  appetizingly  spiced  and  washed  down 
with  rare  vintage  of  the  Castelli  Romani,  would  no 
longer  nourish  him,  he  abandoned  his  native  land  and 
went  to  France.  His  writings  while  in  France  were 
like  those  of  a  man  who  is  dominated  by  a  dementia 
following  a  protracted  delirium,  and  as  he  emerged 
from  this  dementia  he  published  a  pietistic  piece  called 
"The  Contemplation  of  Death."  It  seems  to  have 
been  suggested  to  him  by  the  death  of  the  poet  Pascoli, 
for  whom  he  professed  an  admiration,  but  more  par- 
ticularly by  Adolfo  Bermond,  whom  he  had  met  after 
he  went  to  France  and  who  apparently  had  been  able 
to  depict  the  beauties  of  humility  so  that  they  were 
recognizable  to  D'Annunzio.  In  his  fatigued,  emo- 
tional, and  enfeebled  mental  state  he  asked  himself 
whether  humility  was  not  more  desirable  than  pride, 
love  not  stronger  than  hate,  spiritual  aristocracy  more 
ennobling  than  aristocracy  of  blood,  of  money,  of  brain, 
of  privilege.  In  this  state  of  mock  humility  he  wrote : 
"I  always  feel  above  me  the  presence  of  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ.  I  see  now  that  the  glory  of  my  life  is  not 
in  the  beauty  of  my  possessions.  I  have  never  felt 
so  miserable  and  at  the  same  time  so  powerful.     Never 


GABRIELE   D'ANNUNZIO  67 

since  I  lived  have  I  had  within  me  an  instinct,  a  need 
so  deep  and  so  storming.  I  am  aware  that  a  part  of 
my  being,  maybe  the  best  part,  is  deeply  asleep  within 
me."  But  soon  this  spiritual  awakening  was  throttled 
by  the  influence  of  Nietzsche.  "What  will  become  of 
me  if  I  surrender  wholly  to  the  Saviour?  Surely  I 
want  the  world  to  know  if  in  my  life,  filled  with  base 
instincts,  there  comes  the  moment  of  changing.  Even 
if  my  glory  be  destroyed  I  will  not  be  a  prisoner  to  the 
worse  that  speaks  within  me."  It  was  from  that  hour 
that  he  decided  to  be  the  Garibaldi  of  the  third  Italy. 
He  would  then  be  another  Gabriel  standing  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God  and  sent  to  speak  to  them  and  show  them 
glad  tidings. 

It  was  a  strange  awakement  that  D'Annunzio  had 
when  he  went  to  Rome  in  the  early  '90's.  Perhaps  it 
was  before  that  time  that  he  encountered  "  L'Ornement 
des  Noces  Spirituelles  de  Ruysbroeck  V Admirable," 
and  later  "La  Sagesse  et  la  Destined,"  and  he  absorbed 
some  of  its  aesthetic  mysticism.  He  realized  that  it 
was  another  variety  of  search  for  wisdom  because  it  is 
happiness,  and  he  began  to  portray  it  in  his  poetry 
and  tragedies.  From  the  day  he  began  to  write  he 
accustomed  himself  to  take  as  it  pleased  him  from 
others'  writings,  and  not  only  lines  and  paragraphs 
but  subjects,  movements,  cadences,  thoughts,  and 
images  which  determined  the  character  and  decided 
the  nature  of  the  production.  Italian  critics  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  return  to  the  original  creators  the 
borrowed  constituents  of  some  of  his  productions, 
"L'Asiatico,"  for  instance;  and  that  which  then  re- 
mained was  the  caressing  modulation  of  the  verses. 


68  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

When  his  romances  appeared  in  French  many  of  the 
passages  taken  bodily  from  Dostoievsky,  Tolstoy,  de 
Maupassant,  Peladan,  de  Goncourt,  Huysmans,  and 
many  others  were  prudently  suppressed.  But  no  one 
can  fail  to  recognize  that  he  read  these  authors  with  a 
keen  eye,  a  note-book  by  his  side.  But  he  has  known 
how  to  use  what  he  borrowed.  The  day  came  when 
the  conduct  of  a  corrupt  people  in  a  decadent  fictitious 
world  no  longer  sufficed  to  divert  him;  having  drunk 
from  the  poisoned  springs  of  lust  not  only  to  satiety 
but  to  disgust,  he,  like  his  prototype  of  Huysmans's 
creation,  "Des  Esseintes,"  the  Thebaide  raffinSe  of 
"A  Rebours,"  must  hide  himself  away  far  from  the 
world,  in  some  retreat  where  he  might  deaden  the  dis- 
cordant sounds  of  the  rumblings  of  inflexible  life,  as 
one  deadens  the  street  with  straw  where  an  important 
or  beloved  one  is  sick.  This  retreat  was  Paris  and  there 
we  must  leave  him  making  scenic  plays  and  erudite 
verse  for  a  Russian  ballerina,  and  working  out  his 
destiny  in  contemplation  of  death  and  in  planning  the 
selection  of  warriors  for  Valhalla. 

We  are  not  concerned  with  his  conduct  or  with  his 
morals.  We  are  concerned  with  his  activities  to  divert 
and  instruct  us,  and  the  influence  that  his  efforts  had 
upon  the  people  of  his  time.  He  wrote  artistically  per- 
fect novels;  his  poetry  is  the  highest  form  of  lyric  ex- 
pression; he  made  his  dramas  the  revivification  of  the 
elements  of  Greek  tragedy;  and  he  strove  to  prove 
that  Eros  was  unconquerable  by  priest,  sage,  or  war- 
rior. Now,  with  the  world  in  ferment,  they  are  the 
only  earnest  for  our  acceptation  of  his  assurance  that 
he  can  shape  the  fate  of  Italy  more  acceptably  than 
its  statesmen. 


GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO  69 

Before  the  Great  War  he  had  practically  passed 
from  the  stage  of  letters.  That  epochal  occurrence 
resurrected  him.  We  can  wait  to  hear  what  posterity 
will  say  of  him. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  ITALIAN  WRITERS 

The  Italians  are  a  people  of  great  emotional  com- 
plexity, displaying  a  strange  mixture  of  idealism  and 
realism.  They  are  at  present  engaged  in  constructing 
an  edifice  which  shall  be  the  admiration  of  the  world 
for  all  time,  to  wit,  a  third  Italy.  Naturally  the  de- 
signers, the  architects,  the  builders  and  the  prospective 
inhabitants  hope  that  it  will  be  more  ideal,  more  com- 
modious, more  adapted  to  its  purposes  than  its  prede- 
cessors. To  the  sympathetic  observer,  however,  they 
appear  to  limit  themselves  narrowly  to  old  building 
material. 

There  is  nothing  which  mirrors  the  individual  and 
composite  mind  of  a  country  so  illuminatingly  as  its 
literature.  The  man  craving  for  power  prefers  the 
allegiance  of  a  country's  song-writers  to  that  of  its 
lawgivers.  That  a  tremendous  change  has  taken 
place  to-day,  not  only  in  the  songs  of  Italy  but  in  all 
her  literature,  must  be  admitted.  This  change  has 
been  in  process  for  a  generation  and  is  going  on  with 
increasing  rapidity. 

Italian  literature  is  now  going  through  "a  phase  quite 
as  distinct  as  that  which  characterized  the  romanticism 
initiated  by  Manzoni  and  which  ended  with  the  advent 
of  Carducci.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  word  which 
would  adequately  express  the  spirit  of  it — perhaps 
the  most  descriptive  one  is  protest  The  new  writers 
protest  against  the  social,  political,  and  religious  ac- 

70 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    71 

ceptances  of  the  past  fifty  years.  They  object  to  the 
acceptance  of  alleged  facts  substantiated  only  by  tra- 
dition; they  refuse  adherence  to  teachings,  doctrines, 
modes  of  thought  and  expression  merely  because  they 
are  old;  they  reject  dogma  originating  in  self -constituted 
authority,  no  matter  how  long  or  by  whom  it  has  been 
sanctioned  and  privileged,  no  matter  how  securely 
rooted.  They  will  have  none  of  the  conventionalism 
which  is  out  of  harmony  with  the  present  conditions  of 
life  and  with  the  present  yearning  for  liberty.  They 
stand  against  the  teaching  that  the  flesh  must  be  pun- 
ished in  order  that  the  soul  may  be  purified,  as  they 
do  against  all  slavish  stereotypy,  moss-covered  con- 
vention, and  archaic  laws. 

They  claim  instead  that  the  best  of  life  is  to  be 
found  in  purposeful  action;  that  life  should  be  speeded 
up,  and  that  every  one  should  be  encouraged  to  live 
fully  for  the  advantage  that  may  come  to  himself,  to 
those  to  whom  he  is  beholden,  and  to  the  world. 
They  advocate  the  strenuous  life  and  invite  the  new 
and  unforeseen,  while  urging  exploration  of  untrodden 
fields  and  especially  determination  of  things  called 
inaccessible  and  unrealizable.  They  advocate  equal  life 
for  men  and  women,  and  seek  to  give  to  such  words 
as  "patriotism"  and  " idealism"  a  fuller  significance,  so 
that  the  former  shall  not  mean  the  heroic  idealization 
of  commercial,  industrial,  and  artistic  solidarity  of  a 
people  but  a  love  of  liberty  and  a  knowledge,  recog- 
nition, and  appreciation  of  what  other  people  and  other 
countries  are  attempting  and  accomplishing;  and  that 
the  latter  may  be  applied  to  the  affairs  of  life  and  not 
to  the  affairs  of  the  imagination. 

This  movement,  in  Italy,  was  begun  by  a  group  of 


72  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

men  who  called  themselves  Futurists  and,  if  that  name 
can  be  dissociated  from  the  connotation  that  is  given 
to  it  when  applied  to  art,  I  see  no  objection  to  it.  It 
has  been  influenced  by  the  French  Symbolists  of  the 
preceding  generation,  Baudelaire,  de  Goncourt,  Villiers 
de  risle-Adam,  Mallarme,  Verlaine,  Huysmans,  Rim- 
baud, whose  work  so  profoundly  influenced  the  course 
of  French  literature.  Like  this  school  the  self-styled 
futuristic  writers  of  Italy  revolt  against  rhetoric  and 
against  tradition.  Therefore  they  reject  equally  the 
ardent  classicism  of  Carducci  and  D'Annunzio's  de- 
cadent blend  of  idealism  and  realism,  the  crass,  slavish 
Gallicism  of  Brocchi,  the  Scandinavian  genuflections 
of  Bracco  and  the  Shavian  imitations  of  Pirandello. 
In  protest  against  all  these  they  seek  the  full  liberty 
of  the  written  word,  as  the  evangel  of  socialism  seeks 
the  liberty  of  the  individual.  Not  from  other  writers 
but  from  reality  itself,  or  from  the  depths  of  their  own 
imaginations,  they  have  received  a  vision  and  this 
vision  they  demand  the  right  to  evoke  in  others,  by 
what  words  or  what  images  they  will.  The  art  of 
expression  should  be  speeded  up,  abbreviated,  and 
epitomized,  while  the  love  of  profound  essentials  is 
cultivated.  To  borrow  from  England's  singer  of  ma- 
terialistic grandeur  and  promise,  they 

"...  want  the.  world  much  more  the  world; 
Men  to  men  and  women  to  women — all 
Adventure,  courage,  instinct,  passion,  power." 

And  in  addition,  as  true  Futurists,  they  want  us  to 
have  constantly  in  mind  what  happened  to  Lot's  wife 
when  she  looked  back  to  see  how  high  the  flames  rose 
over  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    73 

The  leaders  of  the  Futuristic  movement  in  Italy  were 
Guillaume  ApoUinaire,  then  editor  of  Les  Soir6es  de 
Paris,  and  F.  T.  Marinetti  of  Milan. 

One  thing  can  be  said  of  Signor  Marinetti,  the  pope 
of  Futurism,  which  no  one,  I  fancy,  will  deny.  He  is 
the  most  amusing  writer  in  Italy.  His  idea  of  beauty  is 
a  massive  building  of  concrete  in  course  of  construction 
with  the  scaffoldings  lovingly  embracing  it.  His  idea 
of  ugliness  is  a  curve  of  any  kind — save  in  the  feminine 
body.  "Parole  in  liberta,"  words  free  from  syntactical 
shackles  are  the  words  with  which  we  shall  fight  the 
battle  of  the  future.  They  are  the  dynamite  which  will 
blow  asunder  literary  Monte  Testaccio,  in  which  are 
buried  the  useless  literary  labors  of  his  forebears  but 
which  shall  also  prepare  the  soil  for  a  fertility  that  it 
has  never  possessed.  Dynamism  is  the  master-key. 
No  artificer  of  the  past  or  wizard  of  the  future  can 
construct  a  lock  that  it  will  not  readily  open,  and  as 
for  political  manacles  they  are  as  fragile  as  rubber 
bands  when  confronted  with  the  doctrines  of  his  new 
book,  "Democrazia  Futurista." 

Signor  Marinetti  has  no  delusions  of  grandeur;  he 
only  pretends  that  he  has.  Nor  is  he  the  victim  of  a 
mental  disorder  which  is  characterized  by  loss  of  in- 
sight and  megalomania.  It  is  gratifying  to  be  able  to 
make  this  diagnosis  of  one  of  Italy 's  literary  leaders. 
It  offsets  the  diagnosis  of  general  paresis  made  of 
Woodrow  Wilson  by  one  of  Mr.  Marinetti's  fellow 
citizens  and  published  with  such  elaborate  attempts 
of  substantiation  in  the  Giornale  di  Italia.  He  merely 
overestimates  his  intellectual  and  emotional  possessions, 
but  he  says  many  clever  things  and  makes  some  proph- 
ecies that  are  likely  to  come  through.    The  last  Eu- 


74  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

ropean  ruler  who  talked  and  acted  as  Signor  Marinetti 
does  got  a  bad  spill,  as  is  now  fairly  widely  known. 
In  reality,  Marinetti  is  a  Bolshevik  who  amuses  him- 
self behind  a  mask,  but  not  all  the  principles  of  Bol- 
shevism are  bad  by  any  means,  nor  even  are  they  new. 
The  most  telling  way  of  making  a  statement  is  to  over- 
state it.  The  most  successful  way  of  getting  a  bad 
smell  out  of  a  house  is  to  burn  the  house;  then,  if 
you  have  a  good  plan  and  plenty  of  time,  money,  and 
building  material,  you  can  construct  yourself  a  house 
free  from  bad  odors.  However,  there  are  other  ways  of 
making  it  a  very  livable  and  beautiful  house,  but  why 
one  should  object  to  Mr.  Marinetti's  building  his  own 
house  his  own  way  is  difficult  to  understand,  unless  in 
so  doing  it  he  makes  himself  such  a  nuisance  to  his 
neighbors  that  they  cannot  tolerate  him.  So  far  he  has 
not  done  that,  but  when  he  joins  force  with  Signor 
Bruno  Corra,  as  he  has  in  "LTsola  dei  Baci"  ("The 
Island  of  Kisses")*  he  comes  perilously  near  it. 

Apollinaire,  a  Pole  whose  real  name  was  Kostro- 
witski,  was  born  in  Rome  and  lived  in  Italy  until  late 
childhood,  when  he  went  to  France,  where  he  remained 
until  his  death  in  1919.  He  had  a  tremendous  influ- 
ence upon  many  of  the  young  symbolist  writers  of 
Italy,  comparable  to  that  exercised  by  Stephane  Mal- 
larme*  on  the  young  writers  in  the  '80's  and  Ws. 
One  of  them  wrote  at  the  time  of  his  death:  "Hero  of 
thought  and  of  art,  idealist,  philosopher,  genuine  poet, 
prophetic  theorist  and  critic,  sublime  soul,  comrade, 
joyous,  generous,  he  was  also  in  the  last  years  of  his 
life  a  hero  of  humanity." 

The  most  important  figure  of  the  school  has  been 
Giovanni  Papini,   who  has  gathered  about  him  in 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    75 

Florence  a  coterie  which  includes  Ardengo  Soffici,  the 
painter,  critic,  and  novelist;  Aldo  Palazzeschi,  poet; 
Alberto  Savinio,  wanderer,  musician,  and  litterateur; 
and  a  long  list  of  names  more  or  less  ancillary  to 
Marinetti,  some  of  which  I  shall  mention  later. 

Papini,  who  is  considered  at  length  in  another 
chapter,  does  not  admit  that  he  is  a  Futurist.  As  he 
puts  it,  he  did  not  marry  Futurism;  it  was  for  him  one 
of  many  intellectual  adventures,  a  mistress  that  left 
an  indelible  impression  on  him.  He  simply  passed 
through  Futurism's  influence  and  at  the  same  time 
gave  momentum  to  the  best  of  that  school,  to  Palazze- 
schi, Govoni,  Boccioni,  Folgore.  Then  he  proceeded 
alone,  after  having  become  persuaded  that  it  had  be- 
come too  popular  and  consequently  less  refined  and  se- 
lect, and  after  the  hazardous  and  aristocratic  little 
group  had  become  a  species  of  low,  bigoted  democracy 
into  which  any  one  could  enter  who  dangled  a  rosary 
of  incomprehensible  words.  He  left  it  in  company 
with  Soffici  and  Palazzeschi  and  soon  Carra  and  others 
followed  his  example.  Thus,  on  the  death  of  Boccioni, 
the  first  generation  of  Futuristic  writers  reformed  or 
disappeared. 

Then  there  are  many  young  men  carrying  the 
banner  of  literature  in  Italy  to-day  who  do  not  call 
themselves  Futurist,  and  whose  writings  contain 
less  of  the  grotesque,  which  has  been  made  familiar  to 
Italian  readers  by  Marinetti's  "Zang  Tumb  Tumb." 
They  are  men  of  the  stamp  of  Antonio  Beltramelli, 
Mario  Mariani,  Luigi  Morselli,  Gino  Rocca,  Salvator 
Gotta,  Lorenzo  Montano,  Vincenzo  Cardarelli,  Raffale 
Calzini,  Enrico  Cavacchioli,  Alfredo  Grilli,  and  a  score 
of  others  who  not  alone  have  ideas  but  who  keenly 


76  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

sense  the  composite  world-thought,  who  believe  that 
the  era  of  Big  Business  will  reach  its  apogee  when  it 
weds  Big  Justice,  and  who  know  how  to  express 
their  ideas  with  explosive  rhythmic  eloquence  and 
with  distinction  of  form. 

It  would  be  presumptuous  on  my  part  to  attempt 
to  select  the  winners  entered  in  the  great  sweepstakes 
of  literary  fame  in  Italy,  with  no  qualification  for 
prophecy  or  judgment  than  a  love  of  literature  and  a 
lifelong  ardent  consumption  of  it.  I  shall,  therefore, 
content  myself  with  brief  discussion  of  the  work  of  some 
of  these  younger  writers  with  the  particular  end  in  view 
of'suggesting  to  others  the  pleasure  <and  profit  that  may 
result  from  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  them. 

About  ten  years  ago  there  began  to  appear  in  the 
Florentine  publication,  La  Voce,  a  series  of  articles  crit- 
ical and  interpretative  of  French  art.  It  is  difficult 
now  to  believe  that  Cezanne,  Courbet,  Renoir,  Picasso, 
Henri  Rousseau,  Gaugin,  Van  Gogh,  and  the  school  of 
impressionists  and  neo-impressionists  was  so  little 
known  in  Italy  as  they  were  at  the  time  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  these  articles  from  the  pen  of  Ardengo 
Soffici,  a  painter  by  training  and  profession  enrolled 
in  the  Futuristic  movement.  He  was,  in  reality,  the 
first  to  speak  in  Italy  with  appreciation  and  intelligence 
of  the  tendencies  in  French  art  shown  in  the  last  half- 
century  which  have  to-day  had  such  a  stamp  of  pro- 
found approval  put  upon  them.  These  criticisms  at- 
tracted much  attention  from  the  first,  and  they  have 
since  been  republished  under  the  title  of  "Scoperte  e 
Massacri"  (" Discoveries  and  Massacres"),  and  to- 
day they  constitute  a  trustworthy  guide  to  the  schools 
mentioned  both  in  presentation  and  in  description. 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    77 

They  were  quite  unlike  previous  criticisms,  more 
particularly  in  a  note  of  challenge,  of  insolence,  and  of 
prophecy.  His  judgments  were  stated  with  a  firm- 
ness and  tranquillity  that  savored  of  the  dogmatic, 
and,  although  time  has  shown  him  to  have  been  mis- 
taken in  his  estimate  of  some  of  the  artists  discussed 
— Gaugin,  for  instance — it  has  corroborated  most  of 
them  with  remarkable  accuracy.  In  a  small  way  he 
did  for  Italian  readers  what  Mr.  MacColl  did  for 
English  readers  in  his  " Nineteenth  Century  Art/'  for, 
like  that  writer,  he  is  an  artist  with  a  fastidious  tem- 
perament who  knows  how  to  write. 

Since  that  time  Signor  Soffici  has  published  nearly 
a  score  of  books — romances,  criticisms,  fragments  which 
show  him  to  be  a  clear  thinker  with  a  pungent  style, 
writing  what  he  thinks  and  not  what  he  cribs  from 
others,  and  not  continually  advertising  himself  as  the 
last  cry  of  intelligence  or  the  most  perfect  type  of 
superman.  His  first  book  was  called  "  Ignoto  Toscano" 
("An  Unknown  Tuscan"),  and  appeared  in  1909,  but  it 
was  not  until  the  publication  of  "Lemmonio  Boreo" 
two  years  later  that  it  was  realized  that  there  had 
appeared  a  writer  with  a  definite  message:  a  protest 
against  the  utter  triviality  and  purposelessness  of 
Italian  middle-class  life. 

The  hero,  an  artist,  who  would  reform  many  cus- 
toms of  the  land,  went  about  the  countryside  accom- 
panied by  two  aids,  one  chosen  for  physical  strength, 
the  other  for  his  "promoter"  type  of  mind.  Their 
encounters  with  the  predatory  innkeeper,  with  the 
peculating  clerk,  with  the  industrious  stone-breaker  of 
the  roads,  with  the  pilferer  of  the  farm  or  the  barn,  and 
with  the  pulchritudinous  peasant  sitting  picturesquely 


78  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

in  her  cart  or  gossiping  in  the  village  constitute  the 
substance  of  the  book.  It  was  planned  to  have  it  run 
into  several  volumes,  but  it  stopped  after  the  first  one, 
without  accomplishing  any  of  the  reforms  that  the 
hero  had  essayed. 

Then  the  writer  reverted  to  art  again  and  published 
a  book  on  Cubism  and  one  on  Cubism  and  Futurism. 
Soon  he  published  Giornale  di  Bordo,  a  diary  of  senti- 
ment and  philosophy — thoughts  engendered  by  vari- 
ous environments,  by  reading,  and  by  reflection.  In 
the  most  casual  way  the  author  reveals  his  impression- 
able and  poetic  nature.  They  are  not  profound 
or  epoch-making  thoughts.  They  are  merely  the 
thoughts  of  a  sane,  healthy,  artistic  mind  bathing 
and  refreshing  itself  in  the  beauties  of  nature  and 
contrasting  them  with  the  ugliness  of  most  of  man's 
handiwork. 

Then  came  two  books  the  outgrowth  of  the  military 
life.  "Kubilek"  is  named  after  a  hill  on  the  Bainsizza 
Tableland  where  the  author  fought  and  was  wounded. 
It  gives  a  picture  of  the  Italian  as  a  soul  which  will  be 
recognized  as  true  to  life  by  every  one  who  has  had 
to  do  with  him.  No  one  can  read  it  without  feeling 
an  admiration  and  an  affection  for  that  extraordinarily 
loyal  being  the  Italian  soldier  who  tolerates  hardship 
with  equanimity  and  without  complaint  and  who  is 
so  appreciative  of  anything  done  for  his  comfort  or 
welfare.  "  La  Ritirata  del  Friuli "  ("  The  Retreat  from 
Friuli")  is  not  up  to  the  author's  standard. 

The  next  book,  a  very  small  one,  "La  Giostra  dei 
Sensi"  ("The  Joust  of  the  Senses"),  is  a  portrayal  of 
the  capacity  shown  by  a  "lost  soul"  for  radiating  un- 
selfish love  upon  an  individual  who  comes  to  her  for 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    79 

meretricious  contact  but  who  stays  to  add  to  his 
spiritual  stature.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Naples  and  the 
author  utilizes  the  sheer  beauty  of  the  place  and 
picturesqueness  of  the  people  to  give  an  artistic  setting 
for  the  description  of  the  jousts.  It  could  not  possi- 
bly be  published  in  England  unless  the  publisher 
aspired  to  " languish"  in  prison. 

Of  the  many  questions  I  have  asked  in  Italy  none 
has  been  so  unsatisfactorily  answered  as  "Do  you  let 
your  young  folk  read  that  book  and  what  effect  does 
it  have?"  No  one  could  think  of  calling  Soffici  a 
pornographic  writer.  Indeed,  it  is  no  exaggeration 
to  say  that  he  is  one  of  the  most  respected  and  ad- 
mired of  all  the  young  school  of  Italian  writers,  and 
yet  there  are  passages  in  the  book  now  under  discussion 
coarser  and  more  vulgar  than  any  in  the  "Satyricon." 
Despite  this  it  is  not  a  circumstance  to  the  recent 
book  of  a  seventeen-year-old  girl  of  Rome,  Margherita 
Emplosi  Gherardi,  entitled  "  II  Nudo  nelle  Anime."  It 
is  dedicated  to  all  those  who  deny  that  the  youthful 
mind  has  not  the  capacity,  discernment,  liberty,  and 
daring  to  envisage  and  interpret  the  painful  mysteries 
of  the  human  soul.  There  are  few  things  more  dis- 
gusting in  literature,  "Gamiana"  excluded,  than  the 
sketch  entitled  "The  Impure  Hour,"  for  women  only. 

His  remaining  books,  "Statue  e  Fantocci"  ("Statues 
and  Dolls"),  are  made  up  chiefly  of  critical  reviews, 
many  of  which  have  appeared  in  journals.  They  show 
that  the  writer  has  a  mastery  of  literary  technic  and 
an  understanding  of  modern  art  and  literature  credi- 
table to  himself  and  to  his  country.  He  can  be  satiri- 
cal, caustic,  sarcastic,  but  he  is  never  brutal.  He  can 
be  an  ardent  admirer,  a  valorous  champion,  a  sym- 


80  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

pathetic  interpreter,  a  critical  friend,  and  a  prej- 
udiced judge,  but  he  is  never  an  implacable,  insen- 
sate enemy,  nor  a  literary  fiend.  Moreover,  one  does 
not  gather  from  his  writings  that  he  is  what  is  called 
the  " whole  thing"  from  the  literary  standpoint. 

Signor  Soffici  has  got  some  bad  habits  from  Papini. 
Among  these  are:  saying  old  things  as  if  they  never  had 
been  said  before;  taking  on  an  air  of  complacency  after 
the  delivery  of  a  sentiment  or  a  conviction  in  no  wise 
epoch-making;  believing  that  all  his  geese  are  swans 
and  the  geese  of  others  decoys;  that  his  every  thought 
is  a  jewel  which  people  are  frenzied  to  possess  unless 
they  are  too  stupid;  and  saying  trivial  things  with  the 
subtly  conveyed  insinuation  that  the  reader  should, 
if  he  is  perspicacious  and  cultured,  find  a  deep  signifi- 
cance in  them. 

He  is  yet  a  long  way  from  his  full  stature,  but  he  is 
growing. 

Aldo  Palazzeschi  (1885-  )  is  one  of  the  youngest 
of  the  Futuristic  group  who  has  gained  enduring  fame 
as  a  poet.  His  first  volume  of  verses,  "Cavalli  Bian- 
chi"  (" White  Horses"),  which  was  published  when 
he  was  twenty  years  old,  showed  him  to  be  a  youth  of 
sensibility  and  originality,  with  capacity  for  tuneful 
verse  and  for  dainty  sentiment  daintily  expressed.  The 
publication  of  a  second  volume,  entitled  "Lanterna" 
("The  Lantern"),  two  years  later,  fully  justified  the 
expectations  of  those  who  were  attracted  by  the  little 
gems  of  his  early  verse.  But  it  was  not  until  1909, 
on  the  publication  of  a  volume  entitled  "The  Poems  of 
Aldo  Palazzeschi,"  that  it  was  realized  that  there  had 
come  upon  the  scene  a  poet  who  might  quite  easily 
get  a  fame  equal  to  that  of  Carducci  or  Pascoli. 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    81 

His  poems  not  only  showed  the  influence  of  Apollin- 
aire  and  Marinetti,  but  also  of  Whitman,  of  Mal- 
larm6,  of  Rimbaud,  of  Laforgue,  and  of  other  French 
writers.  The  dyed-in-the-wool  critics  saw  in  much  of 
his  work  clownishness  and  infantilism,  especially  in 
such  productions  as  "E  lasciatemi  divertire."  They 
thought  it  should  be  construed:  "And  let  me  divert 
myself  with  insane-asylum  poetry."  They  were  quite 
right  from  their  standpoint,  but  a  fellow  poet  whose 
emotional  mechanism  is  not  so  equilibrated  as  that 
of  the  sort  of  man  called  normal,  would  be  likely  to 
see  in  it  something  of  beauty  and  of  merit  which  the 
latter  could  not  see,  and  ask:  "Why  should  not  the 
poet  divert  himself  ?"  It  is  to  him  what  exercise  is 
to  the  average  man,  and  he  speaks  of  it,  in  fact  is 
proud  of  it,  just  as  the  average  man  is  proud  of  his 
golf  score  when  he  gets  it  in  that  Elysian  field,  "under 
ninety." 

Those  who  do  not  see  in  Palazzeschi's  poetry  an  ad- 
hesion to  a  certain  school  of  philosophy,  an  advocacy 
of  certain  ethical  systems,  a  restatement  of  others' 
thoughts  and  teachings,  miss  the  very  essence  of  his 
contribution.  This  is  his  capacity  to  present  the  world 
around  us  in  colors  which,  if  not  new,  at  least  have  been 
recognized  only  since  the  advent  of  the  impressionistic 
painter.  So  illuminated,  it  presents  facets  of  beauty 
that  make  appeal  to  that  which  within  us  mediates 
and  interprets  pleasure. 

In  addition  to  this,  he  has  an  extraordinary  sense  of 
the  fantastic,  the  grotesque,  the  panoplied.  His  eye 
is  microscopic  and  his  mind  is  telescopic,  and  his  soul 
waves  tend  to  a  rhythm  which  is  akin  to  that  of  genius 
when  he  reveals  them  and  describes  them  to  others, 


82  IDLING  IN   ITALY 

as  he  does,  for  instance,  in  the  "Villa  Celeste"  ("The 
Celestial  House");  the  average  man  (who  is  attuned 
to  interpret  some  poetic  waves)  realizes  that  the  soul 
of  this  young  man  is  the  generating  station  of  genuine 
poetical  energy.  He  puts  a  reflector  before  his  soul 
and  it  reflects  the  waves  in  our  direction. 

"Io  metto  una  lente 
dinanzi  al  mio  cuore, 
per  farlo  vedere  alia  gente." 

Among  the  youngest  of  the  Italian  litterateurs  who 
are  giving  great  promise  is  Alberto  Savinio,  who  is  not 
only  an  interesting  writer  but  an  accomplished  mu- 
sician, composer,  and  performer.  Of  Sicilian  origin, 
he  was  born  in  Tuscany  and  has  lived  in  various  parts 
of  central  Europe.  He  first  came  to  conspicuous  no- 
tice through  his  articles  in  Les  Soirees  de  Paris,  To 
the  average  reader  he  is  known  as  a  traveller  and  a 
narrator  of  his  observations  and  experiences  in  the 
form  of  comments  and  short  stories.  Latterly,  how- 
ever, he  has  published  a  queer  book  entitled  "Herma- 
phrodite," which  is  difficult  briefly  to  characterize 
without  doing  it  injustice.  It  is  a  book  that  a  clever 
man  might  write  in  the  early  stages  of  delirium  tremens, 
providing  he  returned  to  it  after  recovery  and  added 
the  chapters  "Isabella  Hasson"  and  " La Partenza  dell' 
Argonauti."  In  the  latter  especially  he  shows  himself 
capable  of  writing  temperate,  vivacious,  robust  prose, 
of  making  inviting  descriptions  of  places,  and  of  reveal- 
ing man's  conduct  and  his  motives. 

When  the  war  broke  out  he  returned  to  Italy  and 
his  contributions  soon  began  to  appear  in  different 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    83 

journals,  more  particularly  in  the  Voce  of  Florence  and 
the  Brigati  of  Bologna.  Since  then  he  has  received 
even  greater  praise  than  was  meted  out  to  him  in  Paris, 
and  he  gives  promise,  should  his  development  continue, 
of  getting  a  place  amongst  the  modern  writers. 

Another  young  writer  of  the  same  kidney,  though  by 
no  means  of  such  promise,  is  Mario  Venditti.  He  is  a 
type  of  juvenile  writer  in  Italy  who  excites  a  curiosity 
to  know  how  he  succeeds  in  getting  some  of  his  writings 
published.  He  appears  to  have  a  writing  formula: 
take  of  substantives  whose  meaning  is  known  to  few 
save  dictionary  experts,  archaic  or  uncommon  adjec- 
tives, adverbs,  or  adverbial  phrases  taken  from  other 
languages,  excerpts  from  scientific  writings,  especially 
philosophy  and  medicine,  and  string  them  together  so 
that  when  they  are  read  aloud  there  will  be  a  certain 
sonorous,  musical  effect,  and  at  the  same  time  suggest 
a  color  accompaniment.  He  reminds  of  a  properly 
brought-up  and  well-educated  boy  who,  when  he 
reaches  the  age  of  puberty,  insists  upon  wearing  what 
are  called  " outlandish"  clothes,  a  combination  of  the 
apparel  of  the  clown  and  that  of  the  fashion-plate,  to 
which  he  attaches  ornate  trimmings  and  incongruous 
decoration.  In  such  costume  he  struts  about  with  a 
nonchalance  and  swagger  of  self-appreciation  which  is 
more  irritating  even  than  his  sartorial  affectations. 
Many  modern  literary  youths  seem  to  have  to  go 
through  a  period  of  this  kind,  just  as  the  children  of 
" First  Families,' }  unfortunately,  must  have  mumps 
and  measles.  Like  the  victims  of  those  diseases  the 
majority  of  them  go  through  unscathed,  but  every 
now  and  then  one  of  them  is  intellectually  enfeebled 
and  genesically  sterilized. 


84  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Signor  Venditti  has  not  assured  us  by  the  publica- 
tion of  "II  Burattino  e  la  Pialla"  that  he  is  not  a 
victim. 

When  is  a  Futurist  not  a  Futurist?  A  very  diffi- 
cult question  that,  for  readers  answer  it  one  way  and 
writers  another.  Some  writers  are  Futuristic  on  al- 
ternate days,  or  every  seventh  day.  One  of  these  is 
Enrico  Cavacchioli,  a  Sicilian  living  in  Milan,  the 
dramatic  critic  of  the  Secolo  and  the  director  of 
II  Mondo  and  of  the  publishing-house  of  Vitagliano. 
His  reputation  as  a  man  of  letters  stands  in  no  rela- 
tion to  his  futurist  poems.  It  does,  however,  to  his 
compositions  for  the  theatre,  and  especially  to  his  great 
success,  "Uccello  del  Paradiso"  ("Bird  of  Paradise"). 
His  last  contribution,  "Quella  che  t'assomiglia"  ("That 
Which  Resembles  You"),  which  he  calls  a  vision  in 
three  acts,  is  a  satire  on  the  present-day  interest  in  the 
occult  and  supernatural. 

When  the  promising  and  brilliant  young  writer  of 
the  Florentine  group,  Renato  Serra,  was  killed  in  the 
war,  Italy  lost  one  of  its  most  gifted  critics  since  De 
Sanctis.  Despite  his  youth  he  had,  when  he  was  called 
to  the  colors,  already  won  a  conspicuous  position  as  a 
man  of  letters.  Alfredo  Panzini  dedicated  his  "Ma- 
donna di  Mama"  to  him,  and  made  touching  allusions 
to  his  qualities  of  soul  and  potential  greatness.  In 
1914  he  published  a  survey  of  contemporary  Italian 
literature  ("Le  Lettere"),  and  the  five  years  which 
have  elapsed  since  then  have  shown  that  his  estimates 
and  judgments  were  unusually  sound.  His  was  neither 
the  academic  idealistic  criticism  of  the  old  school  nor 
the  historic  philosophic  criticism  of  Croce.  He  at- 
tempted to  interpret  writers,  plans,  and  performances 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    85 

and  to  contrast  them  with  ideals  lie  had  himself  con- 
ceived or  worked  out  from  study  of  the  masters.  His 
last  work,  "Scritti  Critiei"  (" Critical  Writings"),  was 
published  in  1919.  They  show  a  subtle  and  profound 
analysis,  an  original  point  of  view,  and  equilibrium  in 
expression  and  in  form.  His  style  is  simple,  his  state- 
ments clear,  his  presentations  convincing. 

Another  young  writer  of  this  group,  a  man  of  great 
promise,  was  Scipio  Slattaper.  He  gave  his  life  for 
his  country  in  the  early  days  of  the  war. 

Corrado  Govoni  has,  for  the  past  decade,  been  con- 
sidered by  some  to  be  Italy's  most  promising  poet. 
There  is  definite  infantilism  in  his  work,  a  distracti- 
bility,  a  discursiveness,  that  has  stood  in  the  way  of 
meriting  such  estimate.  Although  still  a  young  man 
(thirty-five),  he  has  eight  volumes  of  poetry  that  bear 
his  name.  Papini  was  his  impresario  but  he  no 
longer  treats  him  as  one  of  his  favored  family.  His 
first  volume  was  called  "  Le  fiale  "  ("  The  Honeycomb  "), 
the  next  "Armonia  in  Grigio  ed  in  Silenzio"  ("  Har- 
mony in  Gray  and  in  Silence").  They  were  truly 
juvenile.  The  third  volume,  "Fuochi  d'Artifizio" 
(" Fireworks"),  showed  the  influence  of  Rodenbach, 
of  James,  and  of  the  modern  French  school. 

In  1907  he  published  "Aborti,"  which  showed  his 
mental  growth  and  which  is  one  of  his  best  even  to  the 
present  time. 

In  1911  he  issued  a  volume  entitled  "Electric  Poetry" 
("Poesie  elettriche"),  whose  futurist  cover  was  the 
only  futuristic  feature  it  had.  There  is  no  humming, 
puffing,  whirring  to  convey  that  steam-and-gasoline- 
engine  modernity  which  it  should  have  in  order  to 
justify  the  name.    Its  lines  are  too  refined,  too  pussy- 


86  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

foot,  too  pathetic,  too  tender-minded  for  that.  Were 
it  not  for  the  perfect  equality  of  the  sexes  to-day  we 
would  be  tempted  to  say  they  had  a  feminine  quality. 
Daintiness  does  not  express  it;  neither  does  unvirile. 

There  is  none  of  this  quality  in  his  next  production 
—the  "Hymn  on  the  Death  of  Sergio."  "Neve" 
("The  Snow")  appeared  in  1914;  "Rarefazione" 
("Rarefactions")  in  1915.  The  latter  is  a  weird  col- 
lection of  childish  figures  designed  by  the  poet  and 
commented  upon  by  him  to  such  effect  as  to  demon- 
strate a  state  of  latent  infantilism.  In  the  same  year 
he  published  a  volume  entitled  "The  Inauguration  of 
the  Spring"  (" LTnaugurazione  della  Primavera"), 
which  contains  most  of  Govoni's  best  work  in  poems. 
His  last  book,  a  series  of  short  stories,  "La  Santa 
Verde"  ("The  Ardent  Saint"),  adds  nothing  to  his 
fame.  Most  of  them  are  insignificant,  colorless,  re- 
hefless,  purposeless. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  by  champions  of  Cor- 
rado  Govoni  to  show  that  "Base  rivals,  who  true  wit 
and  merit  hate"  are  forming  a  cabal  to  prevent  his 
getting  his  deserts.  Fiumi,  his  last  champion,  does 
not  materially  advance  his  claim. 

Such,  in  all  their  diversity,  are  the  Futurists.  There 
is  no  common  formula  which  describes  them.  They 
have  a  programme  which,  like  that  of  the  Socialists, 
must  from  its  very  nature  lack  specificity.  They  are 
not  very  definitely  organized  and  many  who  en- 
rolled under  their  banner  in  the  enthusiasm  of  youth 
soon  deserted  the  cause.  But  meanwhile  they  got 
sufficient  inspiration  and  impetus  to  throw  off  the 
shackles  of  tradition  and  to  taste  the  pleasure  of  ex- 
ploration.   More  often  they  get  purged  of  a  kind 


THE  FUTURIST  SCHOOL  OF  WRITERS    87 

of  literary  preciosity  which  makes  for  their  well-being 
and  usefulness.  The  programme  of  the  Futurist  is  of 
little  importance  in  itself,  but  it  is  of  great  importance 
as  a  symptom  of  tendencies  now  agitating  the  minds 
of  the  younger  generation  in  Italy.  It  may  be  that 
their  efforts  will  constitute  the  small  end  of  the  wedge 
by  which  Romanticism  and  Verism  shall  be  burst 
asunder  like  the  Dragon  of  Bel's  Temple. 


CHAPTER  V 

GIOVANNI  PAPINI  AND  THE  FUTURISTIC  LITERARY 
MOVEMENT  IN  ITALY 

In  one  of  his  "Appreciations" — depreciations  would 
be  the  more  fitting  word — Signor  Papini  says  he  seems 
to  have  read  or  to  have  said  that  in  every  man  there 
are  at  least  four  men :  the  real  man,  the  man  he  would 
like  to  be,  the  man  he  thinks  he  is,  and  the  man  others 
think  he  is.  He  is  sure  to  have  read  it,  for  he  has 
read  widely.  Undoubtedly  he  has  also  said  it,  for  he 
has  made  a  specialty  of  saying  things  that  have  been 
said  before — even  that  he  has  said  before. 

As  for  the  man  he  thinks  he  is,  he  has  written  a 
long  autobiography  with  plentiful  data,  from  which  it 
may  be  deduced  that  he  is  a  man  with  great  possibilities 
and  a  great  mission,  to  wit,  to  precipitate  in  Italy  a 
spiritual  revolution,  to  bring  to  his  countrymen  the 
gospel  that  it  is  time  to  be  up  and  doing  and  that 
intoxication  with  past  successes  will  not  condone 
present  inertness.  He  has  been  chosen  to  teach 
men  that  the  best  of  life  is  to  be  found  in  purposeful 
action  regardless  of  inconsistencies,  contradictions, 
and  imperfections;  that  the  ego  should  be  guided 
peripherally  not  centrically;  that  introspection  is  the 
stepping-stone  to  mental  involution.  In  reality,  he  is 
but  one  of  many  who  are  proclaiming  those  tidings 
in  Italy. 

The  distinction  between  what  he  would  like  to  be  and 

88 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  89 

what  he  thinks  he  is,  is  not  so  marked  as  in  more  timid 
and  less  articulate  souls.  Substantially,  it  is  this  same 
calling  of  prophecy  which  is  his  aim.  As  for  the  man 
he  is,  time  and  his  own  accomplishments  alone  will 
show.  Now,  at  the  zenith  of  his  creative  power,  he  is 
still  a  man  of  promise,  a  carrier-pigeon  freighted  with 
an  important  message  who,  instead  of  delivering  it,  ex- 
hausts himself  beating  his  wings  in  a  luminous  void. 

In  Giovanni  Papini  these  four  aspects  stand  out  very 
distinctly.  Let  us  take  them  up  in  inverse  order,  since 
what  others  think  of  a  man  is  soon  stated  and  what  he 
really  is  is  a  vague  goal,  to  be  approached  only  dis- 
tantly, even  at  the  end  of  this  paper.  Mr.  Reginald 
Turner  says:  " Papini  is  by  far  the  most  interesting 
and  most  important  living  writer  of  Italy.  'L'Uomo 
Finito'  has  become  a  classic  in  Italy;  it  is  written 
in  the  most  distinguished  Italian;  it  can  be  read  again 
and  again  with  increasing  profit  and  interest  ...  its 
Italian  is  impeccable  and  clear.  Mr.  J.  S.  Barnes  calls 
him  the  most  notable  personality  on  the  stage  of 
Italian  letters  to-day,"  and  Signor  G.  Prezzolini  writes: 
"His  mind  is  so  vast,  so  human,  that  it  will  win  its  way 
into  the  intellectual  patrimony  of  Europe."  I  can- 
not go  all  the  way  with  these  adherents  of  Signor  Pa- 
pini. I  have  talked  with  scores  of  cultured  Italians 
about  his  writings  and  I  have  heard  it  said,  "He  has 
acquired  an  enviable  mastery  of  the  Italian  language," 
but  I  have  never  once  heard  praise  of  his  "impecca- 
ble and  clear  Italian";  nor  do  I  hold  with  Mr.  Barnes 
that  he  is  unquestionably  the  most  notable  person- 
ality save  D'Annunzio  on  the  stage  of  Italian  letters 
to-day.  We  would  scarcely  call  Mr.  Shaw  the  most 
notable  personality  on  the  stage  of  English  letters 


90  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

to-day.  Surely  it  would  be  an  injustice  to  Mr.  Kip- 
ling, Mr.  Wells,  and  Mr.  Conrad.  It  might  be  un- 
just to  Mr.  Swinnerton. 

Signor  Papini  is  an  interesting  literary  figure, 
particularly  as  a  sign  of  the  times.  During  the  past 
generation  there  has  been  in  Italy  a  profound  revolt 
against  what  may  be  called  satisfaction  with  and  rever- 
ence for  past  performances  and  against  slavish  sub- 
scription to  French,  German,  and  Russian  realism.  It 
is  to  a  group  of  writers  who  call  themselves  Futurists 
and  who  see  in  the  designation  praise  rather  than 
opprobrium  that  this  salutary,  beneficial,  and  praise- 
worthy movement  is  due. 

Signor  Papini  has  publicly  read  himself  out  of  the 
party,  but  apostasy  of  one  kind  or  another  is  almost  as 
necessary  to  him  as  food,  and  most  people  still  regard 
him  as  a  Futurist,  though  he  refuses  to  subscribe  to  the 
clause  in  the  constitution  of  the  literary  Futurists  of 
Italy  bearing  on  love,  published  by  their  monarch 
Signor  Marinetti  in  that  classic  of  Futuristic  literature 
"Zang  Tumb  Tumb"  and  in  "Democrazia  Futurista." 

It  is  now  twenty  years  since  there  appeared  un- 
heralded in  Florence  a  literary  journal  called  the 
Leonardo,  whose  purpose  in  the  main  seemed  to  be  to 
overthrow  certain  philosophic  and  socialistic  doctrines, 
Positivism  and  Tolstoian  ethics.  The  particularly 
noteworthy  articles  were  signed  Gian  Falco.  It  soon 
became  known  that  the  writer  was  one  Giovanni  Pa- 
pini, a  contentious,  self-confident  youth  of  peculiarly 
inquisitive  turn  of  mind,  and  of  sensitiveness  bordering 
on  the  pathological,  an  omnivorous  reader,  an  aggres- 
sive debater.  He  was  hailed  by  a  group  of  youthful 
literary  enthusiastics  as  a  man  of  promise. 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  91 

In  the  twenty  years  that  have  elapsed  since  then 
he  has  written  more  than  a  score  of  books,  short  stories, 
essays,  criticisms,  poetry,  polemics,  some  of  which, 
such  as  "L'Uomo  Finito"  ("The  Played-Out  Man"), 
" Venti  Quattro  Cervelli"  ("Twenty-four  Minds"),  and 
"Cento  Pagine  di  Poesia"  ("One  Hundred  Pages  of 
Poetry"),  have  been  widely  read  in  Italy  and  have 
known  several  editions.  Save  for  a  few  short  stories,  he 
has  not  appeared  in  English,  though  there  seems  to  be 
propaganda  in  his  behalf  directed  by  himself  and  by 
his  friends  of  his  publishing-house  in  Florence  to  make 
him  known  to  foreigners.  Like  other  Italian  prop- 
aganda it  has  not  been  very  successful  and  this  is  to 
be  regretted.  It  is  due  in  part  to  the  fact  his  advo- 
cates have  claimed  too  much  for  him. 

Signor  Papini  is  like  Mr.  Arnold  Bennett  in  that 
they  both  know  the  reading  public  are  personally  in- 
terested in  authors.  From  the  beginning  he  and  his 
friends  have  capitalized  his  poverty  of  pulchritude  and 
his  pulchritudinous  poverty.  Signor  Giuseppe  Prez- 
zolini,  in  a  book  entitled  "Discorso  su  Giovanni  Pa- 
pini" has  devoted  several  pages  to  his  person,  which, 
he  writes,  "is  like  those  pears,  coarse  to  the  touch  but 
sweet  to  the  palate,"  yet  I  am  moved  to  say  that  the 
eye  long  habituated  to  resting  lovingly  upon  somatic 
beauty  does  not  blink  nor  is  it  pained  when  it  rests  upon 
Giovanni  Papini. 

In  one  of  his  latest  books — it  is  never  safe  to  say 
which  is  really  his  last,  unless  you  stand  outside  the 
door  of  the  bindery  of  La  Voce — in  one  of  his  latest 
books,  entitled  "Testimonials,"  the  third  series  of 
"Twenty-four  Brains,"  he  reverts  to  this,  and  says 
that  his  person   is   "so  repugnant   that   Mirabeau, 


92  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

world-famed  for  his  ugliness,  was  compared  with  him 
an  Apollo." 

He  does  not  get  the  same  exquisite  pleasure  from 
deriding  his  qualities  of  soul,  but,  as  the  face  is  the 
mirror  of  the  soul,  no  one  is  astonished  to  learn  that 
"this  same  Papini  is  the  gangster  of  literature,  the 
tough  of  journalism,  the  Barabbas  of  art,  the  dwarf  of 
philosophy,  the  straddler  of  politics,  and  the  Apache 
of  culture  and  learning."  Nevertheless,  no  prudent, 
sensitive  man  should  permit  himself  to  say  this  or 
anything  approximating  it  in  Papini's  hearing,  for 
not  only  has  he  a  card  index  of  substantives  that 
convey  derogation,  but  he  has  perhaps  the  fullest  ar- 
senal of  adjectives  in  Italy,  and  has  habituated  himself 
to  the  use  of  them,  both  with  and  without  provo- 
cation. 

I  have  been  told  by  his  schoolmates  and  by  those 
whom  he  later  essayed  to  teach  that  as  a  youth  he 
was  inquisitive  about  the  nature  of  things  and  objects 
susceptible  to  physical  and  chemical  explanation. 
His  writings  indicate  that  his  real  seduction  was  con- 
ditioned by  philosophic  questions.  Early  in  life  he 
displayed  a  symptom  which  is  common  to  many  psycho- 
paths— an  uncontrollable  desire  to  read  philosophical 
writers  beyond  their  comprehension.  In  the  twenty 
years  that  he  has  been  publishing  books  he  has  con- 
stantly returned  to  this  practice,  as  shown  by  his 
"Twilight  of  the  Philosophers,"  "The  Other  Half,"  and 
"Pragmatism." 

His  first  articles  in  the  Leonardo,  which  now  make 
up  the  volume  known  as  "II  Tragico  Quotidiano  e  il 
Pilota  Cieco"  ("The  Tragedy  of  Every  Day  and  the 
Blind  Pilot"),  are  sketches  and  fantasies  of  a  personal 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  93 

kind,  some  of  them  fanciful  and  charming,  some  with 
a  touch  of  inspired  extravagance  that  recall  Baude- 
laire and  Poe,  and  faintly  echo  Oscar  Wilde's  "  Bells 
and  Pomegranates/ '  Dostoievsky's  "Poor  People," 
and  Leonida  AndreiefTs  "Little  Angel."  Some  of  the 
stories  have  a  weird  touch.  Others  are  founded  in  ob- 
session that  form  the  ancillaB  of  psychopathy.  Take, 
for %  instance,  the  man  with  a  feeling  of  unreality  who 
did  not  really  exist  in  flesh  and  blood  but  was  only  a 
figure  in  the  dream  of  some  one  else,  and  who  felt  that 
he  would  be  vivified  if  only  he  could  find  the  sleeper  and 
arouse  him.  This  idea  is  not  of  infrequent  occurrence 
in  that  strange  disorder,  dementia  precox;  take  again 
the  man  who  found  his  life  dull  and  who  covenanted 
with  a  novelist  to  do  his  bidding  in  exchange  for  being 
made  an  interesting  character;  and  the  two  men  who 
changed  souls;  and  the  talks  with  the  devil  inter- 
preting scripture.  All  these  awaken  an  echo  in  the 
reader's  mind  of  either  having  been  heard  before  or 
they  bring  the  hope  that  they  never  will  be  heard 
again. 

Although  his  early  writings  had  an  arresting  quality, 
it  was  not  until  he  undertook  to  edit  some  Italian  clas- 
sics published  under  the  title  of  "I  Nostri  Scrittori" 
("Our  Writers")  that  they  began  to  take  on  the 
features  that  have  since  become  characteristic  and 
which  have  been  described  by  his  admirers  as  "rugged, 
vigorous,  virile,  rich,  neologistic,"  and  everything  else 
the  antithesis  of  pussy-foot.  This  feature,  if  feature 
it  can  be  called,  showed  itself  first  in  "L'Uomo  Finito," 
a  book  which  is  admitted  to  be  an  autobiography,  It 
introduces  us  to  an  ugly,  sensitive,  introspective,  men- 
tally prehensile  child  of  shut-in  personality  who  is  not 


94  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

only  egocentric  at  seven  but  who  loves  and  exalts  him- 
self and  despises  and  disparages  others. 

This  unlovable  child  with  an  insatiate  appetite  for 
information  found  his  way  to  a  public  library  and  de- 
termined to  write  an  encyclopaedia  of  all  knowledge. 
His  juvenile  frenzy  came  its  first  cropper  when  he 
reached  the  letter  "B,"  and  he  was  submerged  with 
the  Bible  and  with  God.  The  task  was  too  big,  he 
had  to  admit,  but  his  ambition  to  accomplish  some 
great  and  thorough  piece  of  work  was  undaunted.  He 
began  a  compendium  of  religions,  then  of  literature, 
and  last  of  the  Romance  languages. 

These  successive  attempts  at  completeness  are 
typical  of  Papini's  far-reaching  ambitions.  "The 
Played-Out  Man"  is  a  record  of  his  plunge  into  one 
absorption  after  another.  He  discovered  evil,  and 
planned  not  only  individual  suicide  but  suicide  of  the 
people  en  masse.  Next  came  the  desire  for  love. 
His  instincts  were  of  a  sort  not  to  be  satisfied  by  the 
conventional  sweetness  of  "I  Promessi  Sposi,"  but 
from  Poe,  Walt  Whitman,  Baudelaire,  Flaubert,  Dos- 
toievsky, and  Anatole  France  he  got  a  vicarious  ap- 
peasement of  the  sentiment  he  craved.  Then  he  en- 
countered "dear  Julian."  "We  never  kissed  each 
other  and  we  never  cried  together,"  but  he  could  not 
forgive  Julian  for  allowing  his  friend  to  learn  of  his 
matrimony  only  through  the  Corriere  delta  Sera. 

The  brief  emotional  episode  past,  Papini's  life  in- 
terest swung  back  to  philosophy.  He  discovered 
Monism,  and  believed  it  like  a  religion.  Then  Kant 
became  his  ideal,  then  Berkeley,  Mill,  Plato,  Locke, 
culminating  in  the  glorified  egotism  of  Max  Stirner. 
After  Stirner  philosophy  has  no  more  to  say.     Down 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  95 

with  it  all !  It  is  necessary  to  liberate  the  world  from 
the  yoke  of  these  mumblers,  just  as  Papini  has  liberated 
himself.  But  how  to  do  it !  Ah,  yes !  Found  a  jour- 
nal that  will  purge  the  world  of  its  sins,  as  the  Great 
Revolution  purged  France  of  royalty. 

Thus  Papini's  literary  work  had  its  beginning.  It 
takes  several  tempestuous  chapters  of  the  autobi- 
ography to  describe  the  launching  of  the  Leonardo  by 
himself  and  a  few  congenial  souls.  Nine  numbers 
marked  the  limit  of  its  really  vigorous  life,  but  it 
ran,  with  Papini  as  its  chief  source  of  material,  for 
five  years.  Ultimately,  with  the  dissipation  of  the 
author's  youthful  energy,  this  child  of  his  bosom  had 
to  be  interred.    But  Papini  still  goes  to  its  grave. 

The  tumultuous,  introspective  life  of  the  author 
continued.  He  went  through  a  period  of  self-pity  and 
neurasthenia,  then  one  of  intense  hero-worship  directed 
toward  all  radicals,  including  William  James,  whom 
he  had  once  seen  washing  his  neck.  Then  came  an 
immense  desire  for  action,  hindered,  however,  by  the 
fact  that  the  author  could  not  decide  whether  to  found 
a  school  of  philosophy,  become  the  prophet  of  a  re- 
ligion, or  go  into  politics.  His  only  inherent  convic- 
tion concerns  the  stupidity  of  the  world  and  his  own 
calling  to  rise  above  it.  This  long,  internal  history 
ends  with  a  period  of  sweeping  depression,  out  of 
which  the  author  at  last  emerges  with  the  intense  con- 
viction that  he  is  not,  after  all,  played  out,  that  there 
is  still  matter  in  him  to  give  the  world.  He  feels 
welling  up  within  him  a  stream  of  arrogance  and 
self-confidence  that  is  not  to  be  dammed.  He  has 
not  yet  delivered  his  message;  people  have  not  yet 
understood  him. 


96  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

"They  cannot  grasp  it,  cannot  bear  to  listen. 
The  thing  I  have  to  tell,  unthought  before, 
Demands  another  language." 


So  he  goes  back  to  the  market-place  of  Florence, 
shouting:  "I  have  not  finished.  I  am  not  played  out. 
You  shall  see."  And  it  is  at  this  stage  that  Signor 
Papini's  work  now  stands.    We  wait  to  see. 

The  "L'Uomo  Finito"  is  Signor  Papini's  G.  P.  No.  2. 
It  is  not  fiction  in  the  ordinary  use  of  the  term,  any- 
more than  "Undying  Fire"  of  Mr.  Wells  is.  In  a 
measure  it  is  fiction  like  " The  Way  with  All  Flesh"  of 
Samuel  Butler.  But  in  point  of  interest  and  workman- 
ship it  is  far  inferior  to  the  former  and  in  purpose- 
fulness,  character  delineation,  orientation,  resurrection, 
and  reform  it  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  latter. 

Although  it  is  the  book  by  which  Signor  Papini  is  best 
known,  it  is  not  his  love-child.  "The  Twilight  of  the 
Philosophers"  is.  He  is  proud  to  call  it  his  intellectual 
biography,  but  it  would  be  much  truer  to  call  it  an 
index  of  his  emotional  equation.  "This  is  not  a  book 
of  good  faith.  It  is  a  book  of  passion,  therefore  of 
injustice,  an  unequal  book,  partisan,  without  scruples, 
violent,  contradictory,  unsolid,  like  all  books  of  those 
who  love  and  hate  and  are  not  ashamed  of  their  love  or 
their  hatred."  This  is  the  introductory  paragraph  of 
the  original  preface. 

In  reality  it  is  a  cross  between  a  philosophic  treatise 
and  a  popular  polemic,  with  the  technical  abstruseness 
of  the  one  and  the  passion  of  the  other,  and  its  purpose 
is  to  show  that  all  philosophy  is  vain  and  should  make 
way  for  action.  Although  it  indicates  wide  and  atten- 
tive reading  and  a  certain  erudition,  the  only  indication 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  97 

of  constructive  thought  that  it  reveals  is  a  rudimentary 
attempt  to  adjust  the  philosophic  system  of  each  man 
to  the  temperamental  bias  of  the  author.  Others, 
Santayana  for  instance,  have  done  this  so  much  better 
that  there  is  scarcely  justification  for  his  pride.  He 
could  have  carried  his  point  quite  as  successfully  by 
stating  it  as  by  laboring  it  through  a  whole  volume 
devoted  largely  to  railing  both  at  philosophers  and  at 
their  philosophy. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  philosopher  this  book 
is  " popular."  From  the  standpoint  of  the  people  it  is 
" philosophical."  It  is  really  a  testimonial  to  the 
author's  breathless  state  of  emotional  unrest.  He  is 
like  a  bird  in  a  cage  and  he  feels  that  he  must  beat 
down  the  barriers  in  order  to  accomplish  freedom, 
but  when  they  are  fractured  and  he  is  apparently 
free  there  is  no  sense  of  liberation.  He  is  in  a  far 
more  secure  prison  than  he  was  before,  and  to  make 
matters  worse  he  cannot  now  distinguish  the  barriers 
that  obstacle  his  freedom.  The  wonder  is  not  that  a 
man  of  the  temperament  and  intellectual  endowment 
of  Signor  Papini  has  this  feeling,  but  that  he  can  con- 
vince himself  that  any  one  else  should  be  interested  in 
his  discovery. 

He  that  hath  knowledge  spareth  his  words,  and 
the  mistake  is  to  consider  words  linked  up  as  sub- 
ject, predicate,  and  object,  especially  if  the  substantives 
are  qualified  by  lurid  adjectives,  the  equivalent  of 
knowledge.  He  knows  the  "ars  scrivendi"  as  Aspasia 
knew  the  "ars  amandi";  Papini  knows  the  value  of 
symbolic,  eye-arresting,  suggestive  titles.  He  realizes 
the  importance  of  overstatement  and  of  exaggerated 
emphasis;   he  is  cognizant  of  the  insatiateness  of  the 


98  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

average  human  being  for  gossip  and  particularly  gossip 
about  the  great;  he  recognizes  that  there  is  no  more 
successful  way  of  flattering  the  mediocre  than  by 
pointing  out  to  him  the  shortcomings  of  the  gods,  for 
thus  does  he  identify  their  possessions  with  his  own 
and  convince  himself  that  he  also  is  a  god.  Papini' s 
sensitive  soul  whispers  to  him  that  the  majority 
of  people  will  think  him  brave,  courageous,  valor- 
ous, resolute,  virtuous,  and  firm  if  he  will  adopt  a 
certain  pose,  a  certain  manner,  a  certain  swagger  that 
will  convey  his  grim  determination  to  carry  his  mission 
to  the  world  though  it  takes  his  last  breath,  the  last 
glow  of  his  mortal  souL 

"They  wished  me  to  be  a  poet;  here,  therefore,  is  a 
little  poetry,"  is  the  opening  line  of  his  book  called 
"Cento  Pagine  di  Poesia,"  and  this,  though  not  in 
verse,  is  characterized  by  such  imaginative  beauty, 
more  in  language,  however,  than  in  thought,  that  it  is 
worthy  to  be  called  a  poem.  More  than  any  other  of 
his  books  it  reveals  the  real  Papini.  Here  he  is  less 
truculent,  less  Nietzschian,  less  self-conscious  of  un- 
derstudying and  attempting  to  act  the  parts  of  Jove. 
He  is  more  like  the  Papini  that  he  is  by  nature,  and 
therefore  more  human,  more  kind  and  gentle — 
would  I  could  add  modest — more  potent  and  convinc- 
ing, than  in  any  of  his  other  books.  It  is  especially 
in  the  third  part,  under  the  general  title  of  "Precipita- 
tions," that  the  author  gives  the  freest  rein  to  his 
fantasy  and  is  not  always  endeavoring  to  explain 
or  tell  the  reason  why,  but  abandons  himself  to  the 
production  of  words  which  will  present  rhythmically 
the  emotions  that  are  springing  up  within  him.  It 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  same  hand  penned  these 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  99 

poems  and  the  open  letter  to  Anatole  France  begin- 
ning: "In  these  days  Anatole  France  is  in  Rome,  and 
perhaps  returning  he  will  stop  in  Florence,  but  I  beg 
him  fervently  not  to  seek  me  out.  I  could  not  receive 
him."  That  quality  of  delusion  of  grandeur  I  have 
seen  heretofore  only  in  victims  of  a  terrible  disease. 

Signor  Papini  is  never  so  transparent  as  he  is  in  his 
"Stroncatura"  and  in  his  excursions  into  the  realm 
of  philosophy.  His  attack  on  Nietzsche  is  most  il- 
luminating. In  fact,  Giovanni  Papini  is  Frederick 
Nietzsche  viewed  through  an  inverted  telescope. 
"  Nietzsche's  volubility  (indication  of  easy  fatigue) 
makes  him  prefer  the  fragmentary  and  aphoristic 
style  of  expression;  his  incapacity  to  select  from  all 
that  which  he  has  thought  and  written  leads  him  to 
publish  a  quantity  of  useless  and  repeated  thought; 
his  reluctance  to  synthetize,  to  construct,  to  organize, 
which  gives  to  his  books  an  air  of  oriental  stuff,  a  mix- 
ture of  old  rags  and  of  precious  drapery,  jumbled  up 
without  order,  are  the  best  arguments  for  imputing 
to  him  a  deficiency  of  imperial  mentality,  a  reflex  of  the 
general  weakness  of  philosophy.  But  the  most  un- 
expected proof  of  this  weakness  consists  in  his  inca- 
pacity to  be  truly  and  authentically  original.  The 
highest  and  most  difficult  forms  of  originality  are  cer- 
tainly these  two:  to  find  new  interpretation  and 
solution  of  old  problems,  to  pose  new  problems  and 
to  open  streets  absolutely  unknown." 

No  one  can  examine  closely  the  writings  of  Signor 
Papini  without  recognizing  that  he  has  shown  himself 
incapable  of  selecting  from  that  which  he  has  written 
and  thought  and  of  setting  it  forth  as  a  statement  of  his 
philosophy  or  as  an  Apologia  pro  Sua  Vita.     Constant 


100  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

republication  of  the  same  statements  and  the  same 
ideas  dressed  up  with  different  synonyms  is  a  charge 
that  can  be  brought  with  justice.  It  can  be  substan- 
tiated not  only  by  his  books  but  by  La  Vraie  Italie, 
an  organ  of  intellectual  liaison  between  Italy  and  other 
countries  directed  by  Signor  Papini,  which  had  a  brief 
existence  in  1919,  a  considerable  portion  of  which  was 
taken  up  with  republication  of  the  old  writings  of  the 
director. 

Even  the  most  intemperate  of  his  admirers  would 
scarcely  contend  that  he  merits  being  called  original, 
judged  by  his  own  standards.  At  one  time  in  his 
life  Nietzsche  was  undoubtedly  his  idol,  and  I  can  think 
of  the  juvenile  Papini  No.  3  suggesting  that  he  model 
himself  after  the  Teutonic  descendant  of  Pasiphae 
and  the  bull  of  Poseidon.  Thus  did  he  appease  his 
morbid  sensitiveness  and  soothe  his  pathological 
erethism  by  enveloping  himself  in  an  armor  made  up 
of  rude  and  uncouth  words,  of  sentiment  and  of  dis- 
paragement; of  raillery  against  piety,  reverence,  and 
faith;  of  contempt  for  tradition.  In  fact,  he  seemed 
equipped  with  a  special  apparatus  for  pulling  roots 
founded  in  the  tender  emotions.  He  would  pretend 
that  he  is  superior  to  the  ordinary  mortal  to  whom 
love  in  its  various  display,  sentiment  in  its  manifold 
presentations,  dependence  upon  others  in  its  countless 
aspects  are  as  essential  to  happiness  as  the  breath  of 
the  nostrils  is  essential  to  life.  In  secret,  however, 
he  is  not  only  dependent  upon  it,  he  is  beholden 
to  it. 

When  he  assumes  his  most  callous  and  indifferent  air, 
when  he  is  least  cognizant  of  the  sensitiveness  of  others, 
when  in  brief  he  is  speaking  of  his  fellow  countrymen, 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  101 

Signore  D'Annunzio,  Mazzoni,  Bertacchi,  Croce,  and 
up  until  recently  when  he  speaks  of  God  or  religion, 
he  reminds  me  of  that  extraordinary  and  inexplicable 
type  of  individual  whom  we  have  had  "in  our  midst' ' 
since  time  immemorial,  but  who  had  greater  vogue 
in  the  time  of  Petronius  than  he  has  to-day. 

Although  the  majority  of  these  persons  are  au  fond 
proud  of  their  endowment,  the  world  at  large  scoffs 
at  them;  and  in  primitive  countries  such  as  our  own 
it  kicks  at  them;  therefore  they  are  quick  to  see  the 
advantage  of  assuming  an  air  of  crass  indifference 
and,  with  the  swagger  of  the  social  corsair,  to  express 
a  brutal  insensitiveness  to  the  aesthetic  and  the  hedon- 
istic to  which  in  reality  they  vibrate.  They  never  de- 
ceive themselves,  and  Signor  Papini  does  not  deceive 
himself.  He  knows  his  limitations,  and  the  greatest 
of  them  are  that  he  is  timid,  lacking  in  imagination,  in 
sense  of  humor,  and  in  originality.  He  is  as  dependent 
upon  love  as  a  baby  is  upon  its  bottle. 

When  writing  about  himself  he  hopes  the  reader 
will  identify  him  only  with  the  characters  whose 
thoughts  and  actions  are  flattering,  but  the  real  man 
is  to  be  identified  with  some  of  the  characters  whom 
he  desires  his  public  to  think  fictitious.  In  one  of  his 
short  stories  he  narrates  a  visit  to  a  world-famed 
literary  man.  He  describes  his  trip  to  the  remote 
city  that  he  may  lay  the  modest  wreath  plated  from  the 
pride  of  his  mind  and  his  heart  at  the  feet  of  his  idol. 
He  finds  him  a  commonplace,  almost  undifferentiated 
lump  of  clay  with  a  more  commonplace,  slatternly 
wife  and  even  more  hopelessly  commonplace  children. 
His  repute  is  dependent  wholly  upon  the  skill  with 
which  he  manipulates  a  card  index  and  pigeon-holes. 


i 


102  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Papini  fled  to  escape  contemplation  of  himself  and  the 
fragments  of  the  sacred  vessel. 

Signor  Papini  has  been  an  omnivorous  reader  along 
certain  lines;  he  has  been  a  tireless  writer,  and  he  is 
notorious  for  his  neologistic  logorrhea,  but  the  posses- 
sion which  stands  in  closest  relation  to  his  literary 
reputation  is  his  indexed  collection  of  words,  phrases, 
and  sentences.  This,  plus  knowing  by  heart  the 
poetry  of  Carducci,  and  his  envy  of  Benedetto  Croce 
for  having  obtained  the  repute  of  being  one  of  the 
most  fertile  philosophic  minds  of  his  age,  and  his  ad- 
vocacy of  the  gospel  of  strenuousness,  is  the  frame- 
work upon  which  he  has  ensheathed  his  house  of 
letters. 

No  study  of  the  man  or  of  his  work  can  neglect  one 
aspect  of  his  career — his  constant  change  of  position. 
He  knocks  with  breathless  anxiety  at  the  door  of  some 
new  world,  and  no  sooner  does  he  secure  entrance  and 
see  the  pleasant  valley  of  Hinnom  than  he  feels  the 
lure  of  black  Gehenna  and  is  seized  with  an  uncon- 
trollable desire  to  explore  it.  When  he  returns  he 
hastens  to  the  public  forum  and  announces  his  dis- 
coveries, preferring  to  tell  of  the  gewgaws  which  he 
discovered  than  to  expatiate  on  the  few  jewels  which 
he  gathered. 

His  last  production  augurs  well  for  him,  because  it 
indicates  that  finally  he  will  bathe  in  the  pool  of  the 
five  porches  at  Jerusalem,  the  World  War  having 
troubled  its  water  instead  of  an  angel.  November  30, 
1919,  he  published  in  the  most  widely  circulated  and 
influential  newspaper  of  Central  Italy,  the  Resto 
del  CarlinOj  an  article  entitled  "Amore  e  Morte" 
("Love  and  Death"),  which  sets  forth  that  he  has 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  103 

had  that  experience  which  the  Christian  calls  "  seeing 
a  great  light,  knowing  a  spiritual  reincarnation/ '  and 
which  those  whom  Papini  has  been  supposed  to  repre- 
sent call  a  pitiable  defalcation,  a  spiritual  bankruptcy. 

On  February  21,  1913,  he  proclaimed  in  the  Cos- 
tanzi  Theatre  of  Rome  that  "in  order  to  reach  his 
power  man  must  throw  off  religious  faith,  not  only 
Christianity  or  Catholicism,  but  all  mystic,  spiritual- 
istic, theosophic  faiths  and  beliefs/ '  Now  he  has  dis- 
covered Jesus.  In  his  literary  ruminations  he  has 
come  upon  the  gospels  of  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  and 
John,  which  set  forth  the  purpose  and  teachings  of 
our  Lord  and  which  have  convinced  countless  living 
and  dead  of  His  divinity.  We  must  forswear  ego- 
centrism;  we  must  stop  making  obeisance  to  material- 
ism; we  must  cease  striving  for  success,  comfort,  or 
power.  Such  efforts  led  to  the  massacre  of  yesterday, 
to  the  agony  of  to-day,  and  are  conditioning  our 
eternal  perdition.  Salvation  is  within  ourselves,  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  our  hearts,  he  who  seeks 
it  without  is  a  blind  man  led  by  a  blind  guide.  The 
road  over  which  we  must  travel  is  bordered  on  either 
side  by  seductive  pastures  from  which  gush  life-giving 
springs,  topped  with  luxurious  trees  of  soul-satisfying 
color  that  protect  from  the  blazing  sun  or  the  congealing 
wind,  and  on  either  side  are  pathways  so  softly  cush- 
ioned that  even  the  most  tender  feet  may  tread  them 
without  fear  of  wound  or  blister.  The  sign-posts  to 
this  road  are  the  four  little  volumes  written  two  thou- 
sand years  ago. 

No  one  unfamiliar  with  that  strange  disorder  of 
the  mind  called  the  manic  depressive  psychosis  can 
fully  understand  Signor  Papini.     There  is  no  one  more 


104  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

sane  and  businesslike  than  the  former  Futurist,  yet 
the  reactions  of  his  supersensitive  nature  have  some 
similarity  with  this  mental  condition  present,  in  em- 
bryo, in  many  people.  In  that  mysterious  malady 
there  is  a  period  of  emotional,  physical,  and  intellec- 
tual activity  that  surmounts  every  obstacle,  brushes 
aside  every  barrier,  leaps  over  every  hurdle.  During 
its  dominancy  the  victim  respects  neither  law  nor 
convention;  the  goal  is  his  only  object.  He  doesn't 
always  know  where  he  is  going  and  he  isn't  concerned 
with  it;  he  is  concerned  only  with  going.  When  the 
spectator  sees  the  road  over  which  he  has  travelled  on 
his  winged  horse  he  finds  it  littered  with  the  debris 
that  Pegasus  has  trampled  upon  and  crushed. 

This  period  of  hyperactivity  is  invariably  followed 
by  a  time  of  depression,  of  inadequacy,  of  emotional 
barrenness,  of  intellectual  sterility,  of  physical  im- 
potency,  of  spiritual  frigidity.  The  sun  from  which  the 
body  and  the  soul  have  had  their  warmth  and  their 
glow  falls  below  the  horizon  of  the  unfortunate's  exist- 
ence and  he  senses  the  terrors  of  the  dark  and  the 
rigidity  of  beginning  congelation.  Then,  when  hope 
and  warmth  have  all  but  gone  and  only  life,  mere  life 
without  color  or  emotion  remains,  and  the  necessity  of 
living  forever  in  a  world  perpetually  enshrouded  in 
darkness  with  no  differentiation  in  the  debris  remain- 
ing after  the  tornado,  then  the  sun  gradually  peeps 
up,  illuminates,  warms,  revives,  fructifies  the  earth, 
and  the  sufferer  becomes  normal — normal  save  in  the 
moments  or  hours  of  fear  when  he  contemplates  hav- 
ing again  to  brave  the  hurricane  or  to  breast  the 
deluge.  But  once  the  wind  begins  to  blow  with  a 
velocity  that  bespeaks  the  readvent  of  the  tornado, 


GIOVANNI  PAPINI  105 

he  throws  off  inhibition  and  goes  out  in  the  open, 
holds  up  the  torch  that  shall  light  the  whole  world, 
and  with  his  megaphone  from  the  top  of  Helicon 
shouts:  "This  way  to  the  revolution." 

In  a  relative  sense,  this  is  the  mode  of  Signor  Pa- 
pini.  He  is  fascinated  by  the  beauty  and  perfections 
of  an  individual  or  of  a  school  and  he  will  enroll  himself 
a  member,  but  before  he  gets  thoroughly  initiated  he 
gets  word  of  another  individual  or  another  school  which 
must  be  investigated.  In  the  intoxication  he  de- 
fames and  often  slays  his  previous  mistress.  Thus 
his  whole  life  has  been  given  to  the  task  of  discover- 
ing a  new  philosophy,  a  new  poetry,  a  new  romance, 
a  new  prophecy,  and  their  makers.  In  the  ecstasy 
of  discovery  he  cannot  resist  smashing  the  idol  of  yes- 
terday that  his  pedestal  may  be  free  for  the  more 
worthy  one  of  to-day,  and  he  cannot  inhibit  the  im- 
pulse to  rush  off  to  the  composing-rooms  of  La  Voce 
to  register  his  emotions  in  print. 

In  his  desire  to  be  famous  he  reminds  one  of  those 
individuals  who  would  be  liked  by  every  one,  and  who 
will  do  anything  save  cease  making  the  effort.  Pre- 
tending that  he  loves  to  have  people  hate  him,  he  does 
not,  but  he  would  rather  have  hate  and  disparage- 
ment than  indifference  or  neglect.  He  desires  power, 
that  unattainable  he  will  be  satisfied  with  notoriety. 
He  does  not  agree  with  a  fellow  poet  that 

"On  stepping  stones  we  reach  to  higher  dreams, 
And  ever  high  and  higher  must  we  climb, 
Casting  aside  our  burdens  as  we  go, 
Till  we  have  reached  the  mountain-tops  sublime, 
Where  purged  from  care  and  dross  the  free  winds  flow." 


106  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Were  he  a  genius  and  at  the  same  time  had  the  in- 
dustry that  he  has  displayed,  he  would  be  the  equal  of 
H.  G.  Wells,  possibly  the  peer  of  Bernard  Shaw,  but  he 
is  neither.  He  is  simply  a  clever,  industrious,  versatile, 
sensitive,  emotional  man  of  forty,  whose  mental 
juvenility  tends  to  cling  to  him.  He  has  so  long 
habituated  himself  to  overestimation  and  his  admir- 
ing friends  have  been  so  injudicious  in  praising  his 
productions  for  qualities  which  they  do  not  possess 
and  neglecting  praiseworthy  qualities  which  they  do 
possess,  that  he  is  like  an  object  under  a  magnifying- 
glass  out  of  focus. 

But,  as  Papini  himself  says,  he  has  not  finished.  He 
is  still  comparatively  a  young  man  and  the  world 
awaits  his  accomplishment.  If  the  function  he  has 
chosen  is  that  of  agitation  rather  than  construction, 
of  preparation  rather  than  of  building,  he  cannot  be 
totally  condemned  for  that.  His  environment  is  in  a 
condition  where  much  destruction  is  necessary  before 
anything  real  can  be  evolved.  And  as  the  apostle 
of  this  destruction  Papini  must  be  accepted.  He 
stands  as  a  prophet,  "the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wilderness,  'Prepare  ye  the  way — '";  and  the  genera- 
tions will  show  whether  it  is  indeed  a  highway  he  has 
opened. 


CHAPTER  VI 
TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS 

The  most  diverting  and  conspicuous  figures  in  the 
literary  world  of  Italy  to-day  are  two  old  school- 
teachers, Alfredo  Panzini,  humanist,  and  Luigi  Pi- 
randello, satirist.  Both  of  them  have  earned  a  perma- 
nent fame  and  their  fecundity  seems  to  be  increasing 
with  age. 

Alfredo  Panzini,  a  pedagogue  by  profession,  is  a 
writer  by  dint  of  long  training.  Born  in  Senigaglia,  a 
small  town  in  the  Province  of  Ancona,  in  1863,  he 
called  Carducci  master.  After  serving  a  long  literary 
apprenticeship  compiling  grammars,  readers,  diction- 
aries, anthologies,  his  name  began  to  appear  in  journals 
and  magazines,  and  gradually  he  has  forged  his  way  to 
the  front  rank  as  an  episodist,  an  interpreter  of  the 
feelings  and  sentiments  of  the  average  man  and  woman 
and  their  spokesman,  and  as  a  master  of  prose. 

In  appearance  he  is  a  typical  lower  middle-class 
Italian,  short,  stout,  and  ruddy,  a  kindly,  benevolent 
face,  with  contented  eyes  that  look  at  you  uninquir- 
ingly  from  behind  gold-rimmed  spectacles.  One  might 
gather  from  looking  at  him  that  he  had  asked  but  little 
from  the  world  and  got  more  than  he  asked. 

His  writings  display  an  intimate  familiarity  with  a 
few  classic  writers,  especially  of  Greece  and  Italy, 
which  he  reveals  by  frequent  and  appropriate  quota- 
tions and  references,  contrasting  the  sayings  and  do- 
ings of  the  venerated  ancients  with  those  of  the  not 

107 


108  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

always  deprecated  modern.  He  knows  the  emotional 
desires  and  reactions  of  the  average  man;  he  senses 
his  aspirations  and  his  appeasements;  he  has  keen 
understanding  of  his  virtues  and  his  infirmities.  He 
knows  his  potential  and  actual  pleasures,  and  he  re- 
veals this  understanding  of  his  fellows  to  us  in  a 
diverting  and  instructive  way  and  at  the  same  time 
shows  us  idealistic  vistas  of  life  and  conduct  that  are 
most  refreshing.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  is  not 
equally  enlightened  about  women.  If  he  knows  their 
aspirations  he  denies  the  legitimacy  of  them;  if  he 
discerns  their  future  he  refuses  to  forecast  it;  if  he 
knows  feminine  psychology  his  writings  do  not  reveal 
it.  He  is  the  traveller  ascending  from  the  plains  whose 
pleasure  is  in  looking  backward  to  survey  the  paths 
over  which  he  has  travelled,  to  describe  the  beauty 
of  the  country  and  its  associations,  and  to  moralize 
about  them.  Elevations  in  front  of  him  from  which 
one  may  legitimately  anticipate  more  comprehensive 
vistas  he  refuses  to  consider,  or,  if  constrained  to  do  so, 
denies  that  what  shall  be  seen  from  them  will  compare 
with  what  he  sees  and  has  seen. 

His  two  most  successful  and  commendable  books  are 
"La  Lanterna  di  Diogene"  ("Diogenes'  Lantern")  and 
"Xantippe."  The  first  is  a  narrative  of  sentimental 
wandering  in  which  he  describes  the  commonplace 
world  and  the  homely  conflict  of  those  whom  he 
encounters,  and  in  which  he  displays  not  only  toler- 
ance, but  love  of  his  fellow  men.  He  is  sometimes 
playful,  more  often  ironical,  but  never  disparaging 
or  vituperative,  and  his  prose  is  clear,  limpid — some- 
times, indeed,  sparkling. 

His  "Xantippe"  does  not  deal  particularly  with  the 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS    109 

virtues  or  infirmities  of  that  renowned  shrew.  It  re- 
counts many  incidents  in  the  life,  trial,  and  incarcer- 
ation of  Socrates  which,  while  still  redounding  to  his 
fame,  are  made  to  show  by  contrasting  them  with  man's 
conduct  and  customs  to-day  the  weaknesses,  incon- 
sistencies, and  fallacies  of  many  conventions  of  the 
twentieth  century. 

"II  Viaggio  di  un  Povero  Letterato"  ("The  Wander- 
ings of  a  Poor  Writer")  shows  the  same  simple- 
minded,  charming  vagabondage  as  "Diogenes'  Lan- 
tern." It  was  published  in  1912,  when  many  readers 
did  not  share  his  distrust  of  Germany  or  hold  with 
him  in  his  forecasts.  Many  of  his  statements  are 
to-day  prophecies  fulfilled. 

It  is  not  an  imaginary  man  of  letters  who  starts 
on  a  trip  in  obedience  to  a  doctor's  orders.  It  is 
Alfredo  Panzini,  exhausted  from  many  labors.  He 
goes  wherever  his  fancy  takes  him,  to  Vicenza, 
Bologna,  Pisa,  Venice,  and  it  is  with  the  literary 
memories  of  these  places  that  he  is  chiefly  concerned. 
At  Pisa  it  is  Leopardi,  Shelley,  and  Byron;  at  Vicenza, 
Fogazzaro;  but  at  Bologna  the  memories  become  more 
personal.  Here  he  sat  at  the  feet  of  Carducci  and 
learned  to  love  and  respect  him;  here  his  budding 
fancies  first  showed  indications  of  blooming;  here 
he  first  essayed  amatory  flights.  He  chances  upon  an 
old  flame  of  his  student  days  leading  the  old  fife  in 
the  old  home,  except  that  she  had  taken  to  writing 
poems  and  insists  on  having  his  opinion  of  them. 
His  account  of  how  he  succeeded  in  meeting  her 
wishes  and  still  maintained  his  self-respect  is  a  master- 
piece of  ingenuousness.  The  least  thing  suffices  to  start 
a  train  of  thought  and  reflection  or  to  decide  his  next 


110  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tarrying-place.  The  volume  ends  with  an  interesting 
account  of  a  Visit  to  the  birthplace  of  Pascoli,  the 
socialist  and  idealist  poet  of  the  Romagna. 

In  his  "Piccole  Storie  del  Mondo  Grande"  he  de- 
scribes a  pilgrimage  to  the  country  of  Leopardi,  and 
to  Umbria.  It  is  filled  with  little  anecdotes  of  literary 
immortals  who  wandered  there,  and  of  references  that 
are  more  significant  to  Italians  than  to  foreigners,  and 
through  it  all  there  is  a  strange,  melancholy  humor 
which  is  quite  characteristic  of  Panzini. 

The  two  novels  which  he  has  written  show  that  he 
has  the  art  of  the  story-teller  in  narration,  sequence, 
and  constructiveness,  but  they  lack  what  the  drama- 
tists call  action.  "  Io  Cerco  Moglie  *.("!  Seek  a  Wife ") 
is  his  best  work.  Ginetto  Sconer,  who  oozes  pros- 
perity and  self-satisfaction,  proceeds  in  a  businesslike 
way  to  select  a  wife.  He  consults  a  pastry-cook  and 
a  doctor,  to  the  great  glee  of  the  reader.  He  sees 
women  in  three  categories:  those  who  presume  to 
disturb  the  dreams  of  anchorites  and  are  still  men's 
pleasure  and  despair;  the  aristocratic  blue-stocking; 
and  the  domestic  paragon.  He  had  not  contemplated 
marrying  a  blue-stocking  or  even  aspiring  to  blue 
blood,  but  when  he  meets  Countess  Ghiselda  he  real- 
izes that  ambition  expands  with  amatory  awakement. 
Her  freedom  is  handicapped  by  the  attentions  of  a 
Futuristic  poet  whose  intellectual  productions  and 
antics  are  amusing  to  every  one  save  Cavaliere  Sconer. 
He  has  peeps  into  spiritual  and  emotional  vistas,  but 
he  yields  finally  to  the  flesh-box  and  woos  the  daughter 
of  the  woman  who  places  a  caramel  in  the  mouth  of 
her  husband  every  morning  before  he  goes  to  his 
office. 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS    111 

Signor  Panzini  knows  the  present-day  Borghese,  their 
thoughts,  their  virtues,  their  absurdities,  and  their 
charm,  and  he  has  depicted  them  in  this  book  in  the 
most  interesting  way. 

Signor  Panzini  is  not  what  is  called  a  feminist  fan, 
and  he  utilizes  Ginetto  Sconer,  who  is  seeking  the 
ideal  mate,  as  a  mouthpiece  for  his  own  convictions 
and  sentiments  concerning  women.  Italy  is  likely  to 
be  one  of  the  last  countries  that  will  yield  woman  the 
freedom  for  emotional  and  intellectual  development 
to  which  she  is  entitled,  and  when  it  comes,  as  it  is 
bound  to  do,  it  will  be  despite  the  kindly  and  senti- 
mental protests  and  ironies  of  such  oppositionists  as 
Signor  Panzini. 

"La  Madonna  di  Mama"  ("The  Madonna  of 
Mamma")  is,  in  addition  to  a  splendid  character  study, 
a  revelation  of  the  disturbance  caused  in  a  gentle  and 
meditative  soul,  his  own,  by  the  war.  For,  in  reality, 
like  so  many  Italian  writers,  Panzini  is  autobiographical 
in  everything  that  he  writes.  In  this  book  he  has 
shown  more  insight  of  feminine  psychology  than  in 
any  of  his  other  writings,  though  he  is  more  success- 
ful with  Donna  Barberina,  who  represents  modern 
Italian  emotional  repressions,  than  with  the  English 
governess,  Miss  Edith,  who  forecasts  in  a  timid  way 
what  her  countrywomen  have  obtained.  Neverthe- 
less, the  strength  of  the  story  is  the  evolution  of  the 
moral  and  intellectual  nature  of  Aquilino,  to  whom  the 
reader  is  partial  from  the  first  page,  and  Count  Hypo- 
lyte,  who  is  "too  good  to  be  true."  Aquilino  is  what 
Alfredo  Panzini  would  have  been  had  he  encountered 
Conte  Ippolito  in  his  early  youth.  The  reader  who 
makes  his  acquaintance  identifies  him  with  the  future 


112  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

glory  of  Italy,  the  type  of  youth  who  has  no  facilita- 
tion to  success  save  ideals  and  integrity. 

Many  of  his  short  stories — such  as  "Novelle  d'Ambo 
i  Sessi"  ("Stories  of  Both  Sexes"),  "Le  Chicche  di 
Noretta"  ("The  Gewgaws  of  Little  Nora")— have 
elicited  great  praise.  To-day  Panzini  has  the  rep- 
utation of  being  one  of  the  most  gifted  writers  of 
Italy.  He  has  come  to  his  patrimony  very  slowly. 
Without  being  in  the  smallest  way  like  George  Mere- 
dith or  Henry  James,  his  writings  have  experienced  a 
reception  similar  to  theirs  in  so  far  as  it  has  been  said 
of  them  that  they  are  hard  to  understand.  It  is  diffi- 
cult for  a  foreigner  to  give  weight  to  this  accusation. 
The  reader  who  once  gets  a  familiarity  with  them  be- 
comes an  enthusiast.  To  him  Panzini  is  one  of  the 
most  readable  of  all  Italian  writers.  To  be  sure,  if  one 
reads  "Xantippe"  it  is  to  be  expected  that  more  or  less 
will  be  said  about  Socrates  and  about  the  customs  and 
habits  of  Athens  of  that  day.  The  same  is  true  of 
Diogenes  and  his  lantern.  It  is  also  likely  that  when 
a  man  of  literary  training  and  taste  wanders  about  the 
country,  writing  of  his  encounters,  he  will  be  likely  to 
write  of  people  and  things,  which,  when  others  read 
them,  will  presuppose  a  certain  culture,  but  the  reader 
who  has  the  misfortune  to  lack  it  need  not  hesitate 
to  read  the  books  of  Signor  Panzini.  He  will  have  a 
certain  degree  of  it  after  he  has  read  them  and  he  will 
get  possessed  of  it  without  effort.  It  is  not  at  all  un- 
likely that  Signor  Panzini  writes  his  stories  and  novels 
in  much  the  same  way  as  he  writes  his  dictionaries, 
namely,  laboriously.  His  later  writings  have  some 
indication  of  having  been  thrown  off  in  a  white  heat 
of  creative  passion  without  preparation  or  conscious 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS    113 

premeditation,  but  most  of  his  books  bear  the  hall- 
marks of  careful  planning,  methodical  execution,  pains- 
taking revision,  and  careful  survey  after  completion 
that  the  writer  may  be  sure  that  his  creation  exposed 
to  the  gaze  and  criticism  of  his  fellow  beings  shall  be  as 
perfect  as  he  can  make  it  both  from  his  own  knowledge 
and  from  the  knowledge  of  others  assimilated  and 
integrated  by  him. 

The  position  which  Panzini  holds  in  the  Italian 
world  of  letters  to-day  is  the  index  of  the  protest  against 
the  writings  of  D'Annunzio.  Panzini  is  sane,  normal, 
human,  gentle,  kindly.  He  sees  the  facts  of  life  as 
they  are;  he  fears  the  ascendancy  of  materialism;  his 
hopes  are  that  man's  evolutionary  progress  shall  be 
spiritual,  and  he  does  not  anticipate  the  advent  of  a 
few  supermen  who  shall  administer  the  affairs  of  the 
planet. 

Alfredo  Panzini  may  finally  get  a  place  in  Italian 
letters  comparable  to  that  of  Pascoli,  and  should 
his  call  to  permanent  happiness  be  delayed  until  he 
has  achieved  the  days  allotted  by  the  psalmist  he  is 
likely  to  have  the  position  in  Italian  letters  which 
Joseph  Conrad  has  in  English  letters  to-day.  This 
statement  is  not  tantamount  to  an  admission  that  it  is 
to  writers  like  Panzini  that  we  are  to  look  for  new  de- 
velopments in  imaginative  literature.  They  will  be 
found  rather  amongst  a  group  of  writers  who  are  the 
very  antithesis  of  him — the  Futurists. 

The  successor  to  the  literary  fame  of  Giacosa  is 
Luigi  Pirandello,  another  schoolmaster.  His  earlier 
writings  were  cast  as  romances,  but  latterly  he  has 
confined  himself  largely  to  stage-pieces  which  reflect 
our  moralities,  satirize  our  conventions,  and  lampoon 


114  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

our  hypocrisies.  His  diction  is  idiomatic  and  telling. 
It  reminds  of  de  Maupassant  and  of  Bernard  Shaw. 
Either  he  inherited  an  unusual  capacity  for  verbal  ex- 
pression or  he  has  cultivated  it  assiduously. 

He  is  Panzini's  junior  by  three  years,  having  been 
born  in  Girgenti,  June  28,  1867.  His  father  was  an 
exporter  of  sulphur,  and  his  early  life  was  spent  amongst 
the  simple,  passionate,  emotional,  tradition-loving 
people  of  southern  Sicily.  Unlike  his  fellow  Sicilians, 
Verga  and  Capuana,  he  has  not  utilized  them  to  any 
considerable  degree  as  the  mouthpiece  of  his  satiric 
comments  and  reflections  on  social  life.  He  has 
taken  the  more  sophisticated  if  less  appealing  people 
of  northern  and  central  Italy,  and  puts  them  in  situa- 
tions from  which  they  extricate  themselves  or  get 
themselves  more  hopelessly  entangled  for  the  reader's 
amusement  or  edification.  In  his  last  comedy,  "L'uo- 
mo,  la  Bestia,  e  la  Virtu' '  ("Man,  Beast,  and  Virtue "), 
the  scene  is  laid  "in  a  city  on  the  sea,  it  doesn't 
matter  where,"  yet  the  characters  are  typically  Sicilian. 

After  graduating  from  the  University  of  Rome, 
Pirandello  studied  at  Bonn  and  made  some  transla- 
tions of  Goethe's  "Roman  Elegies."  Soon  after  he  re- 
turned to  Rome  he  published  a  book  of  verse  and  a 
book  of  short  stories  which  made  no  particular  stir. 
It  was  not  until  he  published  "II  fu  Mattia  Pascal" 
("The  Late  Mattias  Pascal")  that  he  obtained  any 
real  success.  Critics  consider  it  still  his  best  effort 
in  the  field  of  romance.  From  the  standpoint  of  con- 
struction it  deserves  the  commendation  that  it  has 
received,  but  both  the  luck  and  the  plans  of  the  hero 
are  too  successful  to  be  veristic,  and  the  eventuations  of 
his  daily  existence  so  far  transcend  ordinary  experi- 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS    115 

ence  that  the  reader  feels  the  profound  improbability 
of  it  all  and  loses  interest.  One  pursues  a  novel  that  he 
may  see  the  revelations  of  his  own  experiences  or  what 
he  might  wish  his  experiences  to  be  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances. When  these  circumstances  get  out  of 
hand  or  when  the  events  that  transpire  are  so  improba- 
ble, or  so  antipathic,  that  the  reader  cannot  from  his 
experience  or  imagination  consider  them  likely  or 
probable,  then  the  novel  does  not  interest  him.  More- 
over, the  Anglo-Saxon  reader,  unless  he  has  lived  in 
Italy,  finds  the  flavor  of  many  passages  "too  high" — 
certain  experiences  are  related  in  unnecessary  detail. 
Like  a  Cubist  picture  the  charm  and  the  beauty  dis- 
appear in  proportion  with  the  nearness  with  which  it  is 
viewed  and  the  closeness  with  which  it  is  examined. 

In  reality,  Pirandello  did  not  get  his  stride  until 
he  began  to  concern  himself  with  social  and  domestic 
problems,  such  as  those  depicted  under  the  title 
of  "Maschere  Nude"  ("Naked  Masks").  In  the 
play  "II  Piacere  dell'  Onesta"  ("The  Pleasure  of 
Honesty"),  he  pictures  a  new  type  of  manage  a  trois: 
the  "unhappy"  husband  in  love  with  the  mature 
daughter  of  an  aristocratic  Philistine  mother,  who, 
when  she  must  needs  have  a  husband  for  conventional 
satisfaction,  appeals  to  a  facile  male  cousin  who  finds 
in  a  ne'er-do-well  disciple  of  Descartes  one  who  is 
willing  to  act  the  part  vicariously,  the  apparent  quid 
pro  quo  being  the  payment  of  his  gambling  debts.  The 
hypocritical,  bombastic  lover;  the  sentimental  mother 
with  a  "family  complex";  the  anguishing,  passionate 
daughter;  the  suave,  aristocratic  male  procurer,  and 
finally  he  who  was  to  be  the  victim  of  the  machina- 
tions of  these  experienced  persons,  but  who  proves  to 


116  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

be  the  victor  because  he  plays  the  game  in  a  way  new 
to  them — that  is,  straight — each  in  turn  delivers  her- 
self or  himself  of  sentiments  and  convictions  that  re- 
veal the  social  hypocrisies  and  conventional  lies  which 
form  the  scaffolding  and  supports  of  what  is  called 
"every-day  life,"  and  give  Pirandello  an  opportunity 
to  display  his  irony,  his  sarcasm,  and  his  humor.  The 
art  of  Pirandello  is  a  subtle  play  of  paradoxes  and  anal- 
yses of  motives  which  are  second  nature  to  persons 
called  complex,  the  result  of  inherited  and  acquired 
artificialities.  To  get  the  full  effect  of  these  paradoxes 
and  analyses  the  closest  attention  of  the  reader  and  of 
the  auditor  is  required,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  Piran- 
dello's comedies  read  much  better  than  they  play. 
Those  who  know  maintain  that  he  has  little  capacity 
for  stage  technic,  that  he  knows  nothing  of  the  art  of 
the  stage.  Hence  his  comedies  have  not  had  the  suc- 
cess of  Giacosa  and  of  Bracco. 

As  human  documents  they  depend  upon  their 
humor  and  veiled  irony  more  than  upon  any  other 
qualities.  The  humor,  which  seems  to  be  obtained 
by  simple  means,  is  nearly  always  the  result  of  an 
analysis  so  fine,  so  subtle,  that  sometimes  one  loses 
track  of  the  premises  on  which  it  is  founded.  He 
compels  the  attention  of  his  reader  and  he  makes  him 
think.  Without  such  attention  and  thought  the  sub- 
tleties of  Pirandello  often  escape  the  reader.  Some- 
times he  labors  a  point  almost  to  a  tiresome  degree,  for 
instance,  in  the  play  "Cosi  e  se  vi  pare"  ("It's  so  if 
You  Think  It's  so").  The  central  point  is  the  iden- 
tity of  a  woman,  which  would  seem,  to  the  average  in- 
dividual, could  be  established  readily  beyond  perad- 
venture,  but  the  point  is — is  there  anything  that  can 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN  SCHOOLMASTERS    117 

be  established  beyond  perad venture  ?  Is  there  any 
such  thing  as  literal  truth?  Is  not  truth  in  reality 
synonymous  with  belief,  individual  or  collective,  or 
both?  Discussion  of  questions  of  this  sort  may  be- 
come very  tiresome,  but  Pirandello  has  the  art  of 
mixing  them  up  with  human  weaknesses  and  human 
virtues  which  makes  the  mixture  not  only  palatable 
but  appetizing.  In  his  last  comedies — "II  Giuoco  delle 
Parti"  ("Each  One  Plays  His  Own  Role")  and  "Ma 
non  e  una  Cosa  Seria"  ("But  It  isn't  a  Serious  Mat- 
ter")— he  reverts  to  matrimonial  tangles  and  at- 
tempts at  disentanglement,  depicting  in  the  former 
the  "temperamental"  woman  who  gets  what  she  wants, 
but  who  finds  when  she  gets  it  she  does  not  want  it,  and 
the  long-suffering  husband  who  is  discerning  enough  to 
know  how  to  handle  her  by  conceding  what  she  de- 
mands that  he  may  get  what  he  should  have. 

The  man  who  usurps  the  conjugal  privileges  of  the 
husband  must  also  discharge  his  obligations.  So  it 
transpires  when  his  temperamental  wife  has  been  in- 
sulted by  some  intoxicated  gilded  youths  who  by  their 
conduct  in  her  house  provoke  a  scandal  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, it  is  necessary  for  the  de  facto  husband  to 
challenge  the  most  aggressive  of  them  to  a  duel.  Dur- 
ing the  excitement  of  the  preparation  the  happy  thought 
comes  to  him  to  have  the  vicarious  husband  fight  the 
duel.  He  does  so  and  is  killed.  The  cause  of  all  the 
trouble,  the  lady,  is  quite  ignorant  of  this  arrange- 
ment and  thinks  the  de  facto  husband  is  battling  with 
the  most  invincible  sword  of  the  city  and  that  he  will 
get  killed,  which  is  her  desire.  On  returning  to  her 
house  she  finds  her  husband  lunching  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  happened.    The  dramatic  climax  soon 


118  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

comes  when  she  scornfully  taunts  him  with  having 
some  one  fight  a  duel  for  him  and  he  replies:  "Not  for 
me  but  for  you." 

The  play  gives  Pirandello  the  opportunity  to  display 
his  knowledge  of  the  sentiments  and  passions  of  the 
modern  "high  life"  individual.  Although  they  talk 
and  act  and  express  familiar  sentiment  in  a  way  that 
makes  one  think  they  are  real  people,  in  reality  they 
are  unreal.  They  are  taken  from  the  author's  imagina- 
tion rather  than  from  real  life. 

The  second  comedy  in  this  volume  is  much  more 
meritorious  than  the  first.  The  author  portrays 
characters  who  well  might  have  existed  in  the  flesh. 
Gasparina,  who  has  put  twenty-seven  years  of  con-, 
tinency  behind  her  and  had  achieved  the  direction  of  a 
second-class  boarding-house,  is  derided  and  maltreated 
by  her  "guests."  The  most  swagger  of  her  boarders, 
who  has  been  miraculously  saved  in  a  duel  which  fol- 
lowed a  broken  engagement,  has  an  original  idea.  He 
will  make  a  mock  marriage  with  her  and  thus  estab- 
lish freedom  from  further  love,  annoyance,  and  duels. 
She  sees  in  the  proposal  escape  from  the  boarding- 
house.  In  the  little  villa  of  the  country  to  which  he 
sends  her,  under  promise  that  she  is  not  to  make 
herself  evident  and  where  he  is  not  to  visit  her,  she 
blooms  like  a  flower.  In  due  course  of  time  he  falls 
in  love  again,  and  in  order  that  he  may  accomplish 
matrimony  he  must  free  himself  from  Gasparina. 
This  could  be  accomplished,  as  it  never  was  consum- 
mated, but  the  messenger,  an  old  aspirant  to  her  favor, 
is  on  the  point  of  having  his  aspirations  realized  when 
the  husband  in  name  only  sees  in  Gasparina  the 
woman  he  really  loves.    The  curtain  falls  at  an  op- 


TWO  NOISY  ITALIAN   SCHOOLMASTERS    119 

portune  moment  before  any  hearts  are  broken  or  any 
blood  is  shed. 

It  is  one  of  the  plays  of  Pirandello  that  has  had  con- 
siderable success  on  the  stage. 

He  is  in  reality  a  finished  workman,  an  accom- 
plished stylist,  a  happy  colorist,  and  fecund  withal.  His 
most  important  of  the  stories  are  "Erma  bifronte" 
(" Deceitful  Hermes"),  "La  Vita  Nuda"  ("Naked 
Life"),  "La  Trappola"  ("The  Snare"),  "E  Domani^ 
.  .  .  lunedi"  ("And  To-morrow— Monday"),  "Un 
Cavallo  Nella  Luna"  ("A  Horse  in  the  Moon"), 
"Quand  ero  matto"  ("When  I  was  Crazy"),  "Bianche 
e  Nere"  ("Blacks  and  Whites");  his  romances,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  ones  already  mentioned,  are  "I  Vecchi 
e  I  Giovani"  ("The  Old  and  the  Young"),  and  "Si 
Gira"  ("One  Turns"),  the  most  recent  and  poorest  of 
them. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  convey  the  impression  that 
Pirandello  is  universally  admired  in  Italy.  His  stories 
and  romances  have  an  adventuresome  quality  that 
transcend  ordinary  experience,  and  his  plays  attempt 
to  dispense  with  theatricalness  and  to  substitute  for  it 
a  subtle  analysis  of  life  with  corrosive  comment,  both 
of  which  are  very  much  resented. 

It  is  strange  that  the  Freudians  have  never  ex- 
plained the  popularity  of  plays  and  novels  concerned 
wholly  or  largely  with  sexual  relations  that  infract  con- 
vention and  law  as  dominancy  of  the  unconscious 
mind,  a  "wish  fulfilment"  of  the  waking  state.  It 
may  be  assumed  that  three-fourths  of  those  who  see 
and  read  them  never  have,  and  never  contemplate 
(with  their  conscious  minds)  having,  similar  experiences. 
They  would  be  scandalized  were  any  one  to  assume 


120  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

that  they  approved  such  conduct.  Perhaps  the  ex- 
planation of  the  hold  such  literature  has  upon  the  pub- 
lic is  the  same  as  the  interest  we  have  in  the  accounts 
of  criminals  seeking  to  evade  apprehension.  It  is  not 
that  we  sympathize  in  any  way  with  the  malefactor. 
We  are  lawmaking,  law-abiding,  law-upholding  citizens, 
and  we  know  he  ought  not  to  escape,  and,  naturally, 
we  hope  he  will  be  caught.  However,  we  cannot 
help  thinking  what  we  would  do  confronted  with  his 
predicament.  We  feel  that  in  his  place  we  could  cir- 
cumvent the  sleuths  and  overcome  what  would  be  to 
the  ordinary  person  insuperable  obstacles.  Thus  we 
divert  ourselves  imagining  what  we  would  do  if  we 
were  adulterous  husbands,  lecherous  wives,  lubrici- 
tous  wooers,  vicarious  spouses,  while  assuring  our- 
selves we  are  not  and  could  never  be,  and  plume  our- 
selves that  we  could  conduct  ourselves  even  in  nefari- 
ousness  in  such  a  way  as  to  escape  detection  or,  if 
detected,  to  disarm  criticism.  Meanwhile  we  enjoy 
being  virtue-rewarded  and  vice-punished,  for  it  is  only 
upon  the  stage  or  in  books  that  it  happens,  save  in  ex- 
ceptional instances. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE  OF  TO-DAY 
AND  YESTERDAY 

I  never  fully  appreciated  how  hazardous  it  is  to 
speak  of  the  literature  of  a  foreign  country  until  I 
read  an  article  in  the  Tribuna  of  Rome,  signed  Mario 
Vinciguerra,  on  Michaud's  "  Mystiques  et  Realistes 
Anglo-Saxons,"  which  seeks  to  disparage  the  origi- 
nality of  some  of  our  Transcendentalists,  particularly 
Emerson,  and  to  trace  tendencies  in  our  literature.  I 
hope  that  I  may  be  more  successful  in  reviewing  some 
of  Italy's  recent  literature  and  in  making  an  estimate 
of  the  merit  of  those  who  are  responsible  for  it  than 
Signor  Vinciguerra,  who  says  the  two  most  potent 
romancers  of  living  American  writers  are  Jack  London 
and  Upton  Sinclair.  At  least  I  shall  not  say  that 
Guido  da  Verona  and  Salvator  Gotta  are  the  most 
potent  romancers  of  Italy,  and  even  I  shall  not  go  so 
far  as  to  say  that  Luciano  Zuccoli  is.  Any  writer  who 
would  maintain  that  "  Before  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  the  books  that  made  the  greatest  stir  in  the  United 
States  were  Upton  Sinclair's  'A  Captain  of  Industry/ 
'The  Jungle/  'The  Metropolis/  and  Jack  London's 
'The  Iron  Heel/"  would  not  write  himself  so  hope- 
lessly ignorant  of  American  literature  as  he  would 
were  he  to  claim  that  Harold  Bell  Wright  and  Rex 
Beach  were  our  leading  novelists.  Such  contention 
would  show  either  unfamiliarity  with  our  literature  or 
dearth  of  understanding. 

121 


122  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Previous  to  the  war  there  was  no  such  pouring  out  of 
literature  in  Italy  as  there  was  in  England,  and  there 
were  few  writers  of  fiction  whose  output  or  content 
could  be  compared  with  that  of  Mr.  H.  G.  Wells,  Mr. 
Arnold  Bennett,  Mr.  Hugh  Walpole,  Mr.  Gilbert 
Cannan,  Mr.  Compton  Mackenzie,  Mr.  D.  H.  Law- 
rence, and  others.  D'Annunzio  had  long  since  ceased 
to  write  romances.  Matilda  Serao  was  in  the  twilight 
of  her  years  and  literary  career.  Grazia  Deledda  was 
displaying  stereotypy  and  Zuccoli  reploughed  the  fa- 
miliar acre.  French  fiction  was  the  favorite  pabulum 
of  the  Italian  who  would  kill  time,  dispel  ennui,  and 
combat  dearth.  Since  then,  however,  there  has  been 
a  great  change  and  there  is  every  indication  that 
Italians  will  provide  literature  for  their  countrymen 
which  will  at  least  obviate  the  necessity  of  importation. 

That  it  has  not  yet  been  accomplished,  however, 
must  be  admitted  in  the  beginning.  The  young 
writers  are  like  birds  trying  their  wings,  aerial  pilots 
striving  for  altitude  tests.  From  their  performances 
one  is  justified  in  hoping,  indeed  believing,  that  they 
will  go  far  and  soar  high,  but  up  to  date  Verga  domi- 
nates the  field  of  Italian  fiction  just  as  Hardy  domi- 
nates the  field  of  English  fiction. 

No  reference  to  the  literature  of  to-day  should  fail 
to  take  note  of  the  fact  that  much  of  the  most  im- 
portant and  suggestive  fiction  does  not  appear  in  book 
form,  or  at  least  not  for  a  long  time,  but  in  periodicals 
such  as  the  monthlies  and  quarterlies,  and  also  in  such 
publications  as  Novella  and  Comoedia.  No  one  can 
gain  a  familiarity  with  the  hundred  or  more  active  writ- 
ers of  fiction  in  Italy  who  does  not  see  and  read  such 
publications.    They  lend  themselves  readily  to  brevity 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    123 

and  to  that  speeding  up  which  the  Futurists  urge,  and 
they  tend  to  do  away  with  the  long-drawn-out  de- 
scriptions which  are  the  despair  of  the  average  reader. 

Another  feature  of  the  newer  literature  which 
augurs  well  for  it  is  that  its  theme  is  not  wholly  por- 
trayal of  the  genesic  instinct  and  the  multiform  per- 
versions to  which  it  has  been  subject  by  culture  and 
which  Christianity  has  been  unable  materially  to  in- 
fluence. We  realize  how  large  the  subject  has  bulked 
in  the  literature  of  every  nation,  but  it  is  probably 
not  beyond  the  truth  to  say  that  it  has  bulked  larger 
in  the  modern  literature  of  Italy  even  than  of  France. 

It  is  natural  that  recent  literature  has  begun  to 
occupy  itself  with  the  conditions  of  the  people  and 
to  display  awareness  of  the  new  significance  that  they 
are  giving  to  the  words  liberty  and  equality,  and  an 
attempt  is  being  made  to  reconcile  preaching  and 
practising  in  their  bearings  on  life  here  and  hereafter. 

The  acceptable  fiction  of  to-day  will  reflect  in  some 
measure  the  world  thought,  or  it  will  soothe  man's 
cravings  for  assurance  of  future  life  and  strengthen  his 
belief  in  it.  It  is  idle  to  deny  that  the  pitch  of  man's 
thought  to-day  is  materialistic,  though  his  unconscious 
mind  is  steeped  in  the  mystic.  Could  we  but  teach 
future  generations  the  pleasure-potency  of  the  imagina- 
tion, we  should  give  them  an  asset  that  would  enhance 
the  usefulness  and  efficiency  of  their  lives  comparable 
to  health.  But  for  some  years  at  least  there  has  been 
a  mistaken  notion  that  the  chief  sources  of  pleasure  are 
responding  to  the  call  of  the  instincts,  the  fortuitous 
offerings  of  chance,  and  awaiting  the  day  when  the 
vital  sap  will  return  from  the  branches  of  that  univer- 
sal tree  upon  which  we  are  the  leaves  to  the  trunk,  that 


124  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

the  spirit  may  be  restored  to  the  Infinite.  '"Poor 
vaunt  of  life,  indeed,  were  man  but  formed  to  feed  on 
joy,  to  solely  seek  and  find  and  feast." 

Pedagogy  has  never  concerned  itself  with  our  imagi- 
native life.  That  is  left  to  endowment  and  to  chance, 
which  sometimes  shows  itself  in  the  shape  of  a  literary 
critic.  Fortunate,  indeed,  is  the  people  or  nation  that 
breeds  competent  critics,  it  matters  not  what  field  of 
activity  they  cultivate,  letters,  science,  or  theology. 
Italy  has  had  many  such,  but  there  is  a  greater  dearth 
of  them  now  than  ever  before.  With  the  exception 
of  Benedetto  Croce  there  is  perhaps  no  one  of  more 
than  national  reputation. 

It  is,  perhaps,  unwise  to  select  from  the  considerable 
number  of  present-day  literary  critics  the  names  of 
a  few,  but  I  hazard  it.  Emilio  Cecchi,  of  the  Rome 
Tribuna,  is  a  versatile,  scholarly  writer,  a  thoughtful, 
judicious  estimator  of  his  fellow  writers'  works,  and  a 
critic  who  is  not  obsessed  with  the  impulse  that  is  sup- 
posed to  dominate  a  certain  type  of  Irishman,  namely, 
to  hit  a  head  whenever  he  sees  it.  Giuseppe  Prezzo- 
lini,  who  has  been  very  intimate  with  the  Florentine 
group  headed  by  Papini  and  who  has  written  a  critical 
estimate  of  his  writings  and  made  a  glowing  statement 
of  his  personal  charms,  has  a  sympathy  and  admira- 
tion for  the  writers  of  what  may  be  called  the  new 
school.  That  does  not  prevent  him  from  being  a 
keen  observer,  a  logical  thinker  with  a  judicious  car 
pacity  to  weigh  the  evidence  presented  by  his  fellow 
writers  in  their  claim  for  popularity  and  fame.  He  is 
a  type  of  literary  man  new  to  Italy,  a  keen  critic,  a 
clear  thinker,  a  master  of  literary  expression  who  de- 
votes much  of  his  energy  to  his  publishing-house  and 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    125 

to  La  Voce.  His  writings  axe  chiefly  political  and 
critical,  "II  Sarto  Spirituale"  ("The  Spiritual  Tailor"), 
"L'Arte  di  Persuadere"  ("The  Art  of  Persuading"), 
"Cos'  e  il  Modernismo?"  ("What  is  Modernism?"). 
He  has  done  more  to  introduce  and  bring  forward  the 
potent  group  of  young  writers  than  any  one  in  Italy. 

Lionello  Fiumi,  a  young  poet  and  critic,  has  pub- 
lished contributions  that  are  noteworthy,  but  he  has 
given  no  real  capacity  to  analyze  evidence,  to  sum  it 
up,  or  to  interpret  it  judiciously.  His  last  effort  to 
prove  that  Corrado  Giovi  is  the  poetic  sun  of  Italy 
to-day  was  anaemic  and  feeble.  The  antithesis  of 
him  is  Gherardo  Marone,  who  thinks  that  Futurism  and 
anarchism  are  synonymous,  but  the  agnostic  in  re- 
ligion sees  no  choice  between  Catholicism  and  Presby- 
terianism.  He  also  maintains  the  extraordinary  posi- 
tion that  a  great  poet  must  needs  be  a  great  thinker. 
He  is  a  very  young  man  and  his  "Difesa  di  Dulcinea" 
("Defense  of  Dulcinea")  gives  promise  that  when  he 
gets  in  his  stride  he  will  go  near  the  winning  post. 

Vincenzo  Cardarelli  is  a  literary  critic  whose  writ- 
ings are  characterized  by  erudition,  sympathy,  under- 
standing, and  a  sense  of  responsibility.  He  has  pub- 
lished a  volume  of  poems  entitled  "Prologhi"  in  line 
with  the  symbolist  school  of  France,  and  especially 
Stephane  Mallarme*. 

Another  critic  who  senses  the  trend  of  Italian  litera- 
ture and  puts  correct  interpretation  upon  it  is  G.  A. 
Borghese. 

Two  of  the  popular  writers  of  fiction  of  to-day, 
Alfredo  Panzini  and  Luigi  Pirandello,  I  have  dis- 
cussed in  a  separate  chapter. 

Luciano  Zuccoli  is  the  most  conspicuous  and  success- 


126  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

ful  exponent  in  Italy  of  the  type  of  fiction  which  was 
thrown  upon  the  world  for  the  first  time  now  nearly 
two  hundred  years  ago  by  Samuel  Richardson,  father 
of  the  novel  of  sentimental  analysis.  Though  Zuccoli 
has  a  score  of  novels  and  romances  to  his  credit,  he 
would  seem  to  be  now  at  the  height  of  his  fecundity. 
The  literary  school  in  Italy  which  is  the  outgrowth  of 
the  Futuristic  movement  points  the  contemptuous 
finger  at  him  and  scoffs  at  his  productions,  but  he  has, 
nevertheless,  a  large  following  and  is  a  writer  of  much 
skill.  His  success  depends  largely  upon  taking  char- 
acters of  the  Borghesia  and  exposing  them  to  the 
ordinary  incidents  of  life,  such  as  love,  matrimony, 
war,  politics,  and  then  depicting  what  comes  "  nat- 
urally" to  some  of  the  victims:  disillusionment  tug- 
ging at  the  leash  until  it  snaps  the  illicit  splicing  of  it 
to  another  snapped  leash  (for  there  is  no  divorce  in 
Italy);  conflict  between  patriotism  and  pacifism, 
and  between  sentiment  and  idealism  from  a  political, 
social,  and  personal  point  of  view.  He  has  got  far 
away  from  the  simpler  delineations  of  his  earlier 
books,  such  as  "La  Freccia  nel  Fianco"  ("The  Arrow 
in  the  Flank"),  in  which  the  love  of  a  sentimental 
girl  of  eighteen  for  a  boy  of  eight,  the  son  of  a  most 
dissolute  noble  who  tends  to  follow  in  his  father's 
footsteps,  is  featured,  and  the  meticulous  discussion 
of  the  daily  life  of  male  and  female  sybarites,  who 
have  chosen  the  smooth  and  easy  road  to  destruction 
as  it  travels  through  Italy's  wickedest  city,  Milan,  as  in 
"Fortunato  in  Amore"  and  have  come  to  keep  what 
might  be  called  better  company,  the  company  of 
those  whose  infraction  of  convention  is  conditioned 
more  by  environment  than  by  determination. 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    127 

"L'Amore  non  c'e  piCt"  (" There  Is  No  More  Love") 
and  "II  Maleficio  occulto"  (" Witchcraft")  are  other 
popular  romances. 

Virgilio  Brocchi  is  a  similar  writer,  though  his  writ-  I 
ings  have  never  had  similar  popularity.  His  most 
meritorious  books  have  been  "Mite"  and  "Le  Aquile." 
His  later  books,  such  as  "Isola  Sonante,"  show  the 
author's  progress  in  literary  craftsmanship.  His  last 
book,  "Secondo  il  Cuor  mio"  ("According  to  My 
Heart"),  shows  that  he  has  had  his  ear  to  the  ground 
and  has  noticed  that  the  chariot  labelled  "Public 
Taste  in  Letters"  is  being  driven  on  a  new  road. 
There  is  a  note  of  idealism  in  the  conduct  of  Gigi  Leoni, 
the  artist  passionately  devoted  to  his  art,  in  love  with 
Merine  Dialli,  proud  and  rich;  he  refuses  to  accept 
her  suggestion  that  he  relinquish  his  art  and  do  some- 
thing that  will  lead  to  material  success.  After  she 
has  made  a  failure  in  matrimony  with  an  army  officer 
and  returns  to  the  artist,  Zuccoli  succeeds  in  drawing 
with  masterly  strokes  the  portrait  of  a  real  hero,  who, 
when  he  perishes  later  on  the  field  of  battle,  excites  un- 
reservedly the  admiration  of  his  readers.  In  reality 
it  is  a  book  in  which  passion,  of  life  or  of  the  senses, 
as  it  sways  an  attractive  man  full  of  nobility  and  of 
dreams,  is  depicted  in  the  traditional  idealistic  manner. 

The  Harold  Bell  Wright  of  Italian  fiction  is  Guido 
Da  Verona,  and  this  does  Mr.  Wright  an  injustice, 
for  he  has  never  written  pornographically  and  Signor 
Da  Verona  has  rarely  written  otherwise.  But  he 
is  Italy's  best-seller.  It  is  depressing  to  think  that 
really  great  romances,  like  the  "I  Malavoglia"  of 
Verga,  stories  such  as  Capuana's  "Passa  L'Amore,"  or 
Renato  Fucini's,  or  even  Panzini's  "La  Madonna  di 


128  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Mama,"  should  have  a  sale  of  only  a  few  thousand 
copies,  while  books  of  the  character  of  "Mimi  Bluette," 
the  flower  of  Signor  Da  Verona's  garden,  should  go  up 
toward  the  hundred-thousand  mark.  It  is  an  index  of 
the  salaciousness  of  the  average  person,  whoever  he 
may  be.  Any  review  of  Italy's  recent  literature  must 
mention  "The  Woman  Who  Invented  Love,"  "Life  Be- 
gins To-morrow,"  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  show 
that  there  is  a  kind  of  literature  in  every  country  which 
has  a  great  popularity.  In  Belgium  its  clientele  is 
found  in  the  prurient  of  other  countries;  in  France 
the  "best  people"  do  not  read  it  or  say  they  do  not;  in 
England  the  public  censor  prohibits  it;  and  we  have 
Mr.  Comstock  and  his  successors.  "Madeline,"  which 
has  recently  cost  its  guiltless  publisher  a  fine,  is  "soft 
stuff"  compared  with  "Mimi  Bluette,"  and  I  doubt 
if  Mr.  George  Moore  could  revoke  any  memories  of  his 
dead  life  that  could  hold  a  candle  to  some  of  Signor 
Da  Verona's  actual  life. 

There  is  little  to  be  said  in  favor  of  his  books  that 
could  not  be  said  for  narcotic-taking,  gambling-hells, 
and  underworld  tango  palaces.  They  have  a  glamour 
about  them  and  an  aroma  that  appeals  to  the  feeble- 
minded, the  inherently  decadent,  and  the  ennuyed 
idle.  It  is  a  realism  whose  reality  exists  only  in  a 
mind  made  lubricitous  by  cupidity. 

Marino  Moretti  is  one  of  the  young  writers  whose 
short  stories  and  romances  have  found  much  favor. 
There  is  an  atmosphere  of  triviality,  of  lightness,  of 
inconsequentially  about  his  writings  which  is  an 
important  part  of  his  "art.  In  reality  he  is  a  finished 
technician  and  an  artist  with  a  wonderful  mastery  of 
perspective  and  of  color,   and  a  commendable  ca- 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    129 

pacity  for  expression.  His  particular  charm  is  that  he 
creates  an  atmosphere  or  a  situation,  but  does  not  in- 
sist upon  giving  a  chemical  analysis  or  physical  de- 
scription of  either.  When  he  takes  you  to  a  drawing- 
room  or  to  the  bathing-beach  at  the  fashionable  hour 
he  does  not  insist  on  presenting  you  to  every  one  or  giv- 
ing you  a  detailed  history  of  their  lives  and  particularly 
of  their  amatory  tidal  waves.  Although  he  seems  to 
give  his  clientele  soft  food,  he  does  not  insist  on  spoon- 
feeding them.  In  the  guise  of  pap  he  gives  them  often 
thought-making  pabulum. 

Some  of  his  popular  books  are  "II  Sole  del  Sabato" 
("Saturday's  Sun"),  "Guenda,"  "La  Voce  di  Dio" 
("The  Voice  of  God"),  and  "Adamo  ed  Eva." 

Antonio  Beltramelli  is  another  writer  who  has 
studied  literary  form  to  great  purpose  and  with  it  he 
combines  imaginative  gifts  of  an  exceptional  order. 
His  earlier  books,  short  stories  entitled  "Anna  Perena" 
and  "I  Primogeniti"  (" First-born  Sons"),  were  well 
received.  He  has  recently  come  back  to  similar 
presentations  in  "La  Vigna  Vendemmiata"  ("The 
Harvested  Vineyard"),  which  while  not  revealing  the 
spiritual  growth  which  his  admirers  expected  from 
him,  shows  him,  nevertheless,  to  be  a  man  of  parts. 
His  chief  defect  is  his  ignorance  of  behavioristic 
psychology  which  is  nowhere  better  shown  than  in  this 
collection  of  short  stories,  "La  Madre,"  for  instance. 
Moreover,  it  is  an  ambitious  writer  who  makes  a  story 
of  these  unromantic  facts;  a  stupid  man  with  some 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  ox  and  the  rat  is  married 
to  a  gross,  slovenly  creature  who  deceives  him.  A 
friendly  neighbor  opens  his  eyes  and  he  finds  her  and 
her  paramour  in  the  brake  and  cane  around  the  vine- 


130  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

yard.  On  his  way  thence  he  encounters  the  parish 
priest  and  asks  him  if  one  would  be  justified  in  met- 
ing out  personal  punishment  to  such  transgressors. 
" Perhaps  yes,  perhaps  no"  is  the  reply.  When  he 
comes  upon  the  guilty  couple  he  kills  the  man  with  the 
blow  of  a  stick,  then  falls  back  upon  the  priest's 
words  for  justification. 

"Gli  Uomini  Rossi"  ("The  Red  Men")  is  his  best- 
known  romance.  He  has  read  and  still  reads  Cer- 
vantes and  Rabelais.  Had  he  the  gift  of  artistic 
presentation  he  might  become  a  great  novelist,  but 
until  now  he  has  confounded  embellishment  with  nat- 
ural beauty. 

Among  the  fiction  that  has  appeared  in  Italy  during 
the  past  year  a  few  books  call  for  mention,  not  be- 
cause of  their  intrinsic  merit  but  because  itjs  indica- 
tive of  the  change  that  is  going  on  in  the  minds  of  the 
common  people  which  reflects  particularly  the  thought 
now  being  given  to  social  and  psychological  ques- 
tions. 

The  American  reader  of  Italian  fiction  cannot  fail  to 
be  impressed  with  the  poverty  of  subject-matter  which 
it  displays.  This  is  explained  partly  by  the  fact  that  it 
is  sometimes  biographical  and  very  often  autobiograph- 
ical— moreover,  the  family  and  social  and  religious  cus- 
toms of  Italy  do  not  make  for  novelty  or  variety  in 
individual  life.  The  zone  in  which  all  the  details 
of  existence  is  predetermined  by  convention  extends 
much  farther  with  them  both  up  and  down  the  social 
scale  than  with  us.  If  man  is  independent  of  it  to 
some  extent  woman  is  not,  and  since  there  is  no  object 
in  chronicling  the  obvious,  popular  Italian  fiction  is 
apt  to  deal  with  excursions  of  man  beyond  his  own 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    131 

circle  and  class.  Another  thing  that  has  to  be  kept 
in  mind  is  the  position  of  women.  The  important 
woman  in  the  life  of  the  majority  of  Italians  is  the 
mother,  not  the  wife.  She  is  on  terms  of  equality 
with  her  son  and  she  retains  much  of  the  authority 
of  the  Roman  matron  in  her  children's  married  life. 
This  it  need  scarcely  be  said  is  changing  with  the 
eternal  flux  of  things. 

Italy  of  to-day  is  a  very  new  country.  Whenever 
we  as  a  nation  do  something  which  the  Italians  con- 
sider gauche  or  raw,  and  they  are  obliged  to  dislocate 
an  inherent  politeness  by  mention  of  it,  they  excuse  us 
because  we  are  so  young.  So  one  excuses  an  infant 
for  some  verbal  or  conductual  infraction.  In  reality 
we  are  about  a  century  older  than  Italy  of  to-day, 
and  we  have  spent  that  time  developing  a  " manner" 
that  reflects  our  protracted  habituation  to  freedom. 
That  it  is  sometimes  masked  by  arrogance  and  self- 
satisfaction  is  to  be  regretted.  Hence  our  indifference 
to  convention  which  is  often  painful  to  the  foreigner. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  it  is  only  the  upper  classes 
of  Italy  who  are  beholden  to  unwritten  convention  and 
customs.  In  truth,  subscription  to  them  is  more  man- 
datory amongst  the  Borghesia  and  II  Popolo.  With 
the  gradual  dissemination  and  acceptation  of  the 
doctrines  of  socialism,  the  equal  rights  of  women,  and 
the  widening  sphere  of  culture  through  universal  ed- 
ucation, many  of  the  shackling  conventions  of  to-day 
will  disappear.  The  younger  workers  are  blazing  the 
way.  Of  those  who  herald  this  change  Mario  Mariani 
must  be  heeded.  In  "La  Casa  dell'  Uomo"  ("The 
House  of  Man"),  he  makes  a  satiric  onslaught  against 
the  amorous,   avid  of  money  and  of  pleasure,  who 


132  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

are  ready  to  sacrifice  every  basic  virtue  in  order  to 
obtain  them.  After  presenting  a  picture  of  the 
present-day  cages  of  human  beings  he  tells  his  story 
through  the  mouth  and  diary  of  the  janitress  of  a 
modern  apartment-house,  who  being  deprived  by  time 
of  her  pulchritude  and  sensuous  appeal,  has  been 
obliged  to  forego  her  chosen  profession,  that  of  Mrs. 
Warren,  and  to  gain  her  livelihood  in  the  sweat  of  her 
brow.  She  has  visions  of  a  day  when  she  can  no 
longer  even  do  that,  and  yet  must  needs  have  food, 
raiment,  and  shelter;  so  she  keeps  a  diary  which  sets 
forth  the  flagrancies  of  the  tenants,  men,  women,  and 
children.  She  does  not  admit  that  the  entries  are  the 
wythes  of  blackmail.  She  salves  such  conscience  as 
has  survived  her  life  of  sin  by  assuring  herself  that  the 
entries  in  the  book  are  to  assuage  literary  growing 
pains.  When  Signor  Mariani  obtained  the  docu- 
ments by  fabrication  or  by  stealth  he  found  himself 
in  possession  of  the  " characters"  of  many  individuals, 
young  and  old,  who  present  a  strange  similarity  to  those 
we  encounter  in  daily  life.  He  has  seen  fit  to  publish 
them  without  saying  whether  it  was  art  or  bread  that 
was  the  incentive,  and  they  constitute  a  serious  charge 
against  society.  The  wonder  is  that  if  such  things 
exist  the  social  fabric  conserves  the  appearance  of 
well-being.  In  truth,  life  is  not  a  mask  behind  which 
the  wearer  laughs,  if  this  diary  is  to  be  believed.  It 
is  in  reality  a  tragedy  made  up  of  a  tissue  of  hypoc- 
risies, banalities,  sordid  commonplaces,  inimical  to  joy, 
subversive  of  pleasure,  and  destructive  of  happiness. 

It  is  obvious  that  de  Maupassant  is  the  author's 
model.  Despite  a  certain  vivacity  of  form,  his  tales 
are  in  substance  very  old-fashioned  and  his  characters 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    133 

are  so  sordid  and  sensual  that  their  actions  and  their 
fate  from  an  artistic  point  of  view  fail  to  interest. 

In  "Smorfia  dell'  anima"  (" Grimaces  of  the  Soul"), 
the  central  theme  is  that  all  people  who  defy  accepted 
morals  are  much  more  honest  and  happy  than  those 
who  hypocritically  accept  convention  but  do  not 
conform  to  the  moral  laws  which  underlie  them. 
There  is  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in  this  view,  but 
it  will  not  stand  too  much  insistence. 

Though  Signor  Marianfs  books  are  not  entitled 
to  laudation,  they,  with  his  commentual  writing,  en- 
courage us  to  await  the  advent  of  his  full  powers 
with  a  sincere  belief  that  he  will  arrive  in  Italian 
letters. 

Gino  Rocca  is  a  young  Milanese  writer  who  has  re- 
turned from  the  war  with  ideas  and  capacity  to  ex- 
press them.  His  novel  "L'Uragano"  is  what  is  pop- 
ularly called  powerful.  It  is  the  same  old  theme, 
love  and  adultery,  but  it  introduces  what  may  be 
called  new  reactions.  It  is  a  story  of  a  young  man 
who,  "temperamentally  unfit"  to  live  in  the  refined 
and  shut-in  atmosphere  of  his  parental  home,  goes  to 
Milan  and  does  successfully  newspaper  work  while 
giving  himself  copiously  to  what  is  called  a  life  of  sin. 
The  picture  of  this  life  is  one  with  which  readers  of 
modern  French  fiction  are  familiar.  Through  the 
mediation  of  a  sympathetic  aunt  he  encounters  a 
lady  burdened  with  an  unworthy  husband,  who  makes 
such  appeal  to  him  that  he  abandons  the  gaming- 
table and  the  underworld,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to 
leave  the  impression  that  it  would  have  been  only  tem- 
porary had  not  the  call  to  arms  put  them  beyond  his 
reach.    In  the  army  and  in  the  hospital,  while  ideal- 


134  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

izing  his  innamorata  he  has  experiences  which  show 
him  the  perfidy  of  the  feminine  human  heart.  When 
he  returns  to  Milan  he  realizes  that  even  with  his  en- 
riched experience  he  is  not  yet  the  man  who  under- 
stands women,  for  he  has  yet  to  learn  of  the  incon- 
stancy of  her  to  whom  he  attributed  all  the  virtues. 
This  discovery  gives  the  writer  an  opportunity  to 
depict  a  profound  emotional  storm  from  which  the 
novel  gets  its  name  and  from  which  the  hero  emerges 
a  better  man. 

There  is  nothing  noteworthy  in  the  book  except 
its  character  delineation.  It  is  a  novel  in  so  far  as  it 
is  an  exact  and  complete  reproduction  of  social  sur- 
roundings or  environment,  but  photographs  are  often 
spoiled  by  being  colored.  It  shows  the  writer  to  have 
a  mastery  of  literary  technic  and  an  unusual  capacity 
for  expression. 

Another  writer  who  has  shown  himself  a  master 
of  verbal  structure  and  adept  in  the  delineation  of 
character,  a  student  of  psychological  reactions  and 
facile  artist  of  the  environment  in  which  they  are  dis- 
played, is  Raffaele  Calzini.  His  first  short  stories, 
"La  Vedova  Scaltra"  ("The  Wary  Widow"),  published 
seven  or  eight  years  ago,  were  hailed  by  some  critics 
as  the  work  of  a  writer  of  potential  distinction.  They 
are  coloristic  or  impressionistic  stories.  Although  he 
has  not  yet  given  proof  that  he  will  earn  enduring  fame, 
he  is  nevertheless  one  of  the  most  promising  of  the 
younger  writers,  and,  although  he  is  not  prolific, 
each  succeeding  publication  has  added  to  his  fame. 
His  last  contribution  is  a  comedy  entitled  "Le  Fedelt&" 
("Fidelity"). 

I  could  not  have  better  illustrations  of  the  r61e 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    135 

played  by  autobiography  in  modern  fiction  than  two 
recent  novels — one  by  Michele  Sapanaro,  "Peccato" 
or  "Six  Months  of  Rustic  Life";  the  other  by  Frederigo 
Tozzi,  "Con  gli  Occhi  Chiusi"  ("With  Closed  Eyes"). 
The  first  is  a  fresh,  ingenuous  book  with  a  vein  of 
romanticism  which  does  not  run  into  great  effusion  or 
great  amativeness,  in  which  is  depicted  the  atmosphere, 
environment,  and  inhabitants  of  a  small  community 
in  southern  Italy,  whither  the  writer  has  gone  to  visit 
his  peasant  brother  and  to  recover  from  some  of  the 
wounds  inflicted  upon  him  in  transformation  from 
peasant  to  "gentleman."  It  is  undoubtedly  an  elab- 
orated, embellished  chapter  of  the  author's  life. 

That  "With  Closed  Eyes,"  a  novel  of  provincial 
and  peasant  life  in  Tuscany,  is  wholly  autobiographical, 
we  have  the  testimony  of  a  fellow  Tuscan  who  says 
of  Signor  Tozzi  that  he  first  met  him  when  he  was  a 
waiter  in  his  father's  tavern.  Lazy,  slothful,  un- 
kempt, and  of  coarse  appearance,  he  had  a  passion 
for  reading  Angiolieri  and  Verlaine.  He  was  radical, 
socially  and  politically.  After  a  colorless,  misspent 
youth  beyond  authority,  parental  or  communal,  he  be- 
gan newspaper  work,  the  stepping-stones  of  so  many 
Italian  writers  of  to-day.  The  discipline  of  military 
life  and  the  environment  of  Rome  effected  a  change  in 
his  outward  appearance,  and  the  composition  of  his 
book,  "Bestie"  ("Beasts"),  which  the  church  put  on 
the  Index,  helped  him  spiritually.  "With  Closed 
Eyes"  is  a  narrative  of  his  life,  sordid,  ugly,  common- 
place, revealing,  however,  a  gradual  spiritual  uplift 
and  refinement.  It  was  not  until  the  publication  of 
"Tre  Croci"  that  he  was  much  discussed.  Compe- 
tent critics  such  as  Signor  Borghese  think  that  Italy's 


136  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

most  promising  literary  light  was  extinguished  when 
Frederigo  Tozzi  died  in  Rome,  in  March,  1920.  His 
literary  output  was  not  great  for  a  man  who  had  lived 
thirty-eight  years,  but  it  can  truthfully  be  said  that 
each  succeeding  volume  from  his  pen  showed  that  he 
was  likely  one  day  to  be  Verga's  successor  in  the  liter- 
ary primacy  of  Italy.  His  last  romance,  "II  Podere," 
("The  Farm,")  has  not  yet  appeared  in  book  form. 

One  cannot  always  judge  from  first  performances 
the  potentialities  of  a  writer.  A  few  years  ago  Rosso 
di  San  Secondo,  a  young  Sicilian,  published  "Io  Com- 
memoro  Loletta"  ("I  Commemorate  Loletta"),  a  se- 
ries of  short  stories  which  in  substance  and  in  work- 
manship showed  not  only  no  talent  buii  no  promise  of 
talent.  In  reality  they  seemed  to  show  an  absence 
of  artistic  capacity,  architecturahability,  and  literary 
taste.  A  year  later  "La  Bella  Addormentata"  ("The 
Sleeping  Beauty"),  a  coloristic,  mystic  drama,  a 
strange  mixture  of  Plotinus  and  Dionysius,  revealed 
real  talent. 

The  Sleeping  Beauty,  of  infantile  mind  and  facial 
pulchritude,  formerly  a  servant,  yielded  to  the  ad- 
vances of  a  notary,  the  nephew  of  a  senile,  implacable 
shrew,  whose  miserly  savings  he  and  his  sister  hoped 
to  inherit.  After  a  few  secure  trips  on  the  sliding- 
board  of  sensual  indulgence,  the  Sleeping  Beauty  shot 
to  the  bottom  of  the  pit  and  became  the  travelling 
harlot  of  a  caravan  which  went  from  one  country  fair 
to  another.  The  more  frequently  she  yielded  the 
body  the  greater  became  her  spiritual  detachment, 
until  finally  she  lived  in  a  world  of  unreality.  Be- 
coming pregnant,  the  spiritual  flame  gradually  lighted 
up  in  her,  and  finally  blazed  under  the  ardent  fanning 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    137 

of  a  new  type  of  Lothario,  Nero  of  the  Sulphur  Mines, 
half  knight,  half  jail-bird,  but  withal  a  romantic  and 
seductive  figure.  His  flair  for  her  was  wholly  spiritual. 
Not  only  did  he  encourage  her  to  renounce  her  life, 
but  he  insisted  that  she  return  to  the  house  of  the 
notary.  They  go  there  and  she  charges  him  with  her 
interesting  condition,  even  though  three  years  have 
elapsed.  Water  doesn't  flow  in  the  brook  of  the 
valley  if  there  is  no  spring  higher  up.  The  aunt  who 
has  sought  in  vain  the  opportunity  to  crush  the  cring- 
ing hypocrite  whose  outward  life  had  seemingly  been 
one  of  virtue  and  rigorous  conventionalism,  sees  it  now. 
She  compels  him  to  marry  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  He 
becomes  the  butt  of  the  taunts  and  derisions  of  the 
community,  juvenile  and  adult,  especially  after  the 
child  is  born.  The  strain  is  too  much  for  him  and,  he 
hangs  himself  when  he  realizes  that  the  dying  aunt  has 
left  her  money  to  the  child  of  another  and  to  the 
church. 

From  the  moment  the  Sleeping  Beauty  felt  a  new 
life  within  her  a  spiritual  torch  was  lit  in  her  soul, 
which  illuminated  the  abyss  into  which  she  had  fallen 
to  such  purpose  that  she  found  her  way  out,  with  the 
helping  hand  which  Nero  held  out  to  her.  Continuing 
to  burn  during  her  gestation  and  delivery,  it  conditioned 
her  spiritual  resurrection  and  the  moral  rehabilitation 
of  Nero.  The  impression  left  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  is  that  they  live  together  happily  forever  after, 
the  summum  bonum  of  earthly  existence,  because  of  the 
happiness  that  flows  from  it  and  because  it  insures  eter- 
nal repose  in  Paradise.  Although  the  play  was  re- 
ceived with  groans  and  howls  and  shrieks  of  deprecia- 
tion when  it  was  first  given  in  Rome,  nevertheless  some 


138  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

of  the  eternal  verities  are  accentuated  and  carried 
home  by  Nero  of  the  Mines  and  by  the  Sleeping  Beauty. 

I  find  greater  difficulty  in  writing  of  recent  Italian 
poetry  than  of  fiction.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  not 
read  it  so  extensively,  and,  in  the  second,  nearly  every 
writer  of  fiction  writes  poetry  as  well.  Some  of  the 
young  poets  are  discussed  in  the  chapter  on  Futurists 
in  literature.  Here  I  shall  mention  one  or  two 
others.  Guido  Gozzano,  who  recently  died,  in  his 
twenty-eighth  year,  was  a  prolific  writer  of  verse.  It 
is  confidently  claimed  by  some  critics  that  he  earned 
the  distinction  of  being  called  Italy's  most  represen- 
tative poet,  the  only  one  since  Pascoli  and  D'Annun- 
zio  who  made  a  new  vibration  to  the  poetic  lyre  and 
stamped  verse  with  an  individual  conception  which 
poetasters  have  more  or  less  accepted.  But  he  suf- 
fered from  hyperfecundity,  and  many  of  his  intellectual 
children  are  anaemic  and  rachitic.  Even  though  they 
are  endowed  with  some  feature  of  beauty  their  vitality 
is  so  slight  that  no  one  wants  to  adopt  them,  and  their 
parent  being  busy  with  the  creation  of  others,  neg- 
lects them  after  having  given  them  one  passably  decent 
suit  of  clothes  in  the  shape  of  book-form  publications, 
so  they  die. 

Guido  Gozzano  was  a  melancholy  figure.  From 
life  he  appeared  to  have  got  only  sadness.  At  twenty- 
five  years  it  had  deluged  his  soul.  His  true  infelicity 
was  then  of  not  being  able  even  to  be  sad.  Scarcely 
had  he  entered  youth  before  he  felt  old.  He  had  no 
companions,  he  was  often  ill;  nothing  appealed  to 
him,  not  even  poetry.  Literary  life  resembled  death. 
He  forsook  the  city  for  the  country,  and  the  novelty  of 
it  for  a  while  diverted  him.    But  it  was  not  for  long. 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    139 

V 

He  vacillated  between  doing  nothing  and  dreaming, 

between  contemplating  the  emptiness  of  a  grotesque 
reality  and  the  nostalgia  of  an  unreal  life,  felt  but  not 
seen.  He  was  never  emotional,  never  exalted,  never 
blasphemous.  Nevertheless,  he  would  seem  to  have 
written  incessantly. 

"Verso  la  Cuna  del  Mondo"  ("Toward  the  Cradle 
of  the  World")  consists  of  the  impressions  of  a  voyage 
in  India  made  in  1912  and  1913.  "I  Colloqui"  is 
a  book  of  fables  for  children.  In  the  "L'Altare  del 
Passato"  ("The  Altars  of  the  Past")  Gozzano  takes 
as  a  rhythm  the  cry  for  the  things  that  were;  the  past 
arises  anew  in  the  intimacy  of  his  feelings  to  tempt 
him  and  to  inspire  him.  It  is  the  generous  wine  that  he 
hopes  will  intoxicate  him  and  fill  him  with  joy.  Its 
effects  are  transitory. 

His  last  book,  "L'Ultima  Traccia"  ("The  Last 
Traces"),  did  not  materially  enhance  his  reputation 
as  a  story-teller.  The  story  called  "The  Eyes  of  the 
Soul"  is  undoubtedly  the  best.  A  beautiful  girl  has  to 
live  her  betrothed  days  alone;  her  fiance*  goes  to  the 
war.  She  contracts  smallpox,  which  disfigures  her. 
When  she  is  called  to  his  bedside  in  the  hospital  where 
he  is  lying  wounded,  perhaps  dying,  she  is  concerned 
what  his  feelings  will  be  when  he  sees  her  face.  When 
she  gets  there  he  is  -  not  mortally  injured,  he  is 
blind. 

Francesco  Chiesa  has  already  differentiated  him- 
self from  the  writing  herd  and  his  "Viali  d'Oro"  has 
had  great  popularity  with  the  younger  generation  of 
his  country.  His  style,  imagery,  and  masterful  syn- 
thesis is  best  seen  in  the  volume  entitled  "Istorie  e 
Favole,"  a  collection  of  short  stories. 


140  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Another  young  Italian  writer  who  is  likely  to  come 
to  the  fore  is  Piero  Jahier.  He  wrote  the  best  war 
story,  "Con  mi  e  con  gli  Alpini."  "Ragazzo,"  a  re- 
cent publication,  shows  him  in  an  entirely  different 
light. 

Alfredo  Bacceli  was  a  young  man  of  great  promise 
in  letters.  His  "Verso  la  Morte"  ("Toward  Death"), 
showed  clear  vision,  deep  feeling,  and  mastery  of 
form. 

Some  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  present-day 
poets  of  Italy  are  Marradi,  Pastonchi,  Rapisardi, 
Siciliani,  and  Sindici.  The  first  two  are  lyric  poets, 
the  last  two  masters  of  form  in  addition. 

Luigi  Siciliani,  who  became  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment in  the  last  elections,  is  the  one  of  this  group  who 
is  most  likely  to  be  remembered.  His  "  Canti  perfetti," 
translations  from  the  Greek,  Latin,  Portuguese,  and 
English,  published  in  1910,  showed  him  to  be  not  only  a 
student  but  a  writer  possessed  of  exquisite  literary 
craftsmanship.  He  has  written  novels,  criticisms,  an- 
thologies, but  the  volume  by  which  he  is  best  known 
is  "Poesie  per  ridere,"  published  in  1909. 

Francesco  Meriano,  one  of  the  group  of  young 
literary  Italians  that  are  known  through  the  Brigata 
of  Bologna,  and  who  published  some  years  ago  a  vol- 
ume of  Futuristic  poetry  entitled  "Equatore  Not- 
turno,"  is  the  author  of  a  volume  containing  his  lyric 
compositions  of  the  past  four  years,  entitled  "Croci  di 
legno"  ("Wooden  Crosses"),  which  has  been  very 
well  received  by  the  critics. 

In  Marino  Moretti's  "Poesie"  we  encounter  things 
which  make  us  think  of  the  great  poets — little  per- 
fections that  much  recent  poetry  almost  no  longer 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    141 

knows,  lucidity,  subtle  vision  and  modesty.  If  poetry 
is  emotion  recollected  in  tranquillity  some  of  these 
verses  are  real  poetry. 

Alfredo  de  Bosis,  translator  of  Shelley's  Cenci  and 
advocate  of  Walt  Whitman,  is  the  author  of  many 
lyrical  poems,  some  of  which  have  been  highly  praised. 

The  three  most  prolific  writers  for  the  stage  of  yes- 
terday in  Italy  are  Roberto  Bracco,  Sem  Benelli,  and 
Dario  Niccodemi.  They  have  all  had  much  success 
outside  of  their  own  country,  and  their  names  are  well 
known  to  readers  and  theatre-goers  of  our  own  coun- 
try. They  are  now  in  the  fulness  of  their  mature 
years,  but  with  the  exception  of  the  latter  none  has 
given  evidence  in  recent  productions  of  having  sensed 
the  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  likings  of  the 
theatre-going  public  in  Italy. 

Signor  Bracco,  a  Neapolitan  approaching  sixty 
years  of  age,  has  for  the  past  twenty  years  worn 
gracefully  the  mantle  of  Giacosa.  His  works  have 
been  published  in  ten  fat  volumes  averaging  three 
plays  to  a  volume,  mostly  comedies.  Of  these  the  most 
important  are  "LTnfedele"  ("The  Unfaithful  Wo- 
man"), and  "II  Trionfo"  ("The  Triumph"),  both 
published  in  1895.  The  best  of  his  dramas  are  "Trage- 
die  delT  Anima"  ("The  Tragedies  of  the  Soul")  and 
"La  Piccola  Fonte"  ("The  Little  Spring"),  which  be- 
comes the  fount  of  life  in  inspiration  for  those  with 
whom  the  heroine  comes  in  contact.  The  best  of  his 
tragedies  is  "Sperduti  nel  Buio"  ("Lost  in  the  Dark- 
ness").^ This  brief  enumeration  gives  no  idea  of  the 
versatility  of  Signor  Bracco,  who  in  reality  has  de- 
picted in  his  twoscore  plays  the  ravages  of  carnal  love 
in  peasant  and  prince,  in  maid  and  in  mistress,  in  priest 


142  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  professor,  in  the  underworld  and  in  the  over- 
world,  in  the  cradle  and  in  the  grave. 

Had  the  display  of  love  and  the  passions  that  flow 
from  it  any  confines,*  they  would  encompass  Signor 
Bracco's  imagination.  Although  denied  what  is  called 
a  scholastic  education,  he  has  studied  science  and 
philosophy,  literature  and  art,  but  always  with  one 
object  in  view:  to  learn  what  human  beings  think  and 
do  when  swayed  by  sexual  passion.  Not  that  anything 
that  he  has  written  can  be  construed  as  exalting  it  or 
as  licensing  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  moral  of  the 
majority  of  his  plays  is  that  continence,  like  virtue, 
is  its  own  reward.  Although  Signor  Bracco  would 
be  the  last  to  admit  that  he  has  not  had  an  uplift 
motive  in  his  writings,  it  is  difficult  to  discover  it. 
Nor  does  he  point  the  way  that  will  lead  to  avoidance 
of  the  suffering  that  flows,  apparently  with  so  much 
directness,  from  social  convention,  from  privilege,  and 
from  the  almost  mediaeval  position  of  women  in  cer- 
tain parts  of  Italy  to-day.  He  is  a  realist  of  realists 
in  fiction,  but  he  is  like  a  physician  who  is  content  to 
diagnose  disease  and  leave  to  others  its  prevention  and 
its  cure. 

A  writer  who  dyes  his  products  in  Bracco's  vat, 
then  for  contrast  colors  them  with  Sardou  and  Dumas, 
which,  exposed  for  sale  in  the  market-place,  find  avid 
purchasers  and  bring  high  prices,  is  Dario  Niccodemi, 
whose  comedies,  especially  "Scampolo"  ("The  Rem- 
nant") and  "L'Ombra"  ("The  Shadow"),  have  had 
great  success.  In  his  last  two  books,  "II  Titano" 
("The  Titan")  and  "Prete  Pero"  ("Priest  Pero"), 
he  gives  evidence  that  he  is  keenly  discerning  of  the 
new  social  consciousness  that  has  developed  in  Italy 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    143 

apparently  as  the  result  of  the  war.  "Prete  Pero," 
while  depicting  the  subterfuges  of  the  church  to  ac- 
complish its  ends  and  the  arguments  that  it  uses  to 
convince  that  the  ends  justify  the  means,  portrays 
one  of  those  simple,  faithful,  honest,  transparent 
souls,  in  the  shape  of  Father  Bragio,  who  have  been 
the  pillars  of  the  Roman  church  which  no  Samson 
has  ever  been  able  to  tear  down.  "I  wrote  'Prete 
Pero/"  he  says,  "as  a  journalist  writes  a  series  of 
articles  or  as  a  speaker  makes  a  series  of  conferences 
— for  a  general  idea;  but  I  have  had  two,  the  first 
aesthetic,  to  sustain  the  principle  that  in  Italy,  as  in 
France  and  in  England,  and,  indeed,  in  every  coun- 
try agonized  by  this  terrible  war,  one  might  make 
and  make  aceptably  war  comedies;  second,  moral,  to 
prove  that  it  is  permitted  to  say  from  the  stage  in  verse 
or  in  prose  that  which  in  the  past  four  years  has  been 
said  in  journals,  in  speeches,  in  conferences,  in  parlia- 
ment and  in  committees,  which  is:  in  the  disorder 
of  the  social  organization  produced  by  the  phenomena 
of  war  there  have  been  sublime  heroes  and  brazen- 
faced cheats  and  swindlers."  "Prete  Pero"  showed 
that  Signor  Niccodemi  has  a  nose  for  the  favorite  per- 
fume of  the  modern  reader,  just  as  his  "L'Ombra" 
showed  it  when  he  afflicted  his  heroine  with  hysterical 
paralysis  and  then  cured  her  by  the  method  which 
Freud  originally  called  the  cathartic  method.  Dario 
Niccodemi  has  not  added  materially  to  the  dignity  of 
Italian  letters,  but  he  has  amused  and  diverted  his 
countrymen  and  ourselves,  and  for  that  we  are  grateful. 
Sem  Benelli,  who  has  recently  had  political  life  thrust 
upon  him  is,  in  common  with  many  literary  Jews  in 
Italy,  inclined  to  give  himself  a  certain  mystery  of 


144  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

origin  by  concealing  his  antecedents.  In  reality  he 
was  born  in  1877.  Not  only  is  he  well  known  in 
Italy  but  in  this  country,  where  one  of  his  early  plays, 
"La  Cena  delle  Beffe"  ("The  Supper  of  the  Jests"), 
has  had  great  success.  He  began  his  literary  career  as 
a  journalist  on  a  Florentine  review,  Marzocco.  His 
first  play  was  published  when  he  was  twenty-five 
years  old.  Although  "La  Tignola"  ("The  Moth") 
showed  unusual  quality  of  construction  and  con- 
trasted with  great  force  the  artistic  temperament 
with  the  world  of  the  big  business,  it  was  not  until 
"La  Cena  delle  Beffe"  that  he  arrived. 

His  great  forte  is  to  be  able  to  put  melodrama  of 
the  most  lurid  kind  into  verse,  while  depicting  the  lives 
and  customs  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  Renaissance, 
whose  standard  of  morals  and  canons  of  conduct  were 
so  unlike  those  of  to-day.  His  heroes  are  always  in 
search  of  revenge,  his  women  of  adventure.  In  his 
"Le  Nozze  dei  Centauri"  ("The  Marriage  of  the  Cen- 
taurs") he  widens  the  field  of  his  activity  to  display 
the  conflict  of  christian  and  barbarian,  but  again  it  is 
the  same  thing,  adventure  and  revenge.  He  does  not 
trouble  to  be  historically  exact.  It  does  not  matter 
to  him  whether  his  characters  are  true  to  life  so  long 
as  they  are  true  to  his  conception  of  revengefulness. 
To  accomplish  his  purpose  he  often  strikes  a  note  that 
reminds  of  his  ancestors  of  the  Old  Testament. 

The  leader  of  all  the  younger  Italian  writers  in 
drama  and  tragedy  is  Luigi  Ercole  Morselli,  born  at 
Pesaro  in  1883.  The  commission  nominated  by  the 
Ministry  of  Instruction  to  decide  the  most  meritorious 
dramatic  production  of  1918  awarded  the  prize  of  six 
thousand  lire  to  him.    As  a  youth  he  studied  medicine 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    145 

and  later  letters  in  Florence,  but  he  soon  deserted  them 
and  wandered  in  America  and  Africa.  His  first  suc- 
cess, a  pagan  theme  entitled  "Orione,"  was  recognized 
by  competent  critics  to  have  originality  and  unusual 
dramatic  qualities,  but  he  was  by  way  of  being  for- 
gotten when  nearly  ten  years  later,  1919,  a  mystic 
drama  based  upon  mythology,  entitled  "Glauco,"  ap- 
peared. It  was  produced  in  Rome  and  was  greeted 
with  every  manifestation  of  approval.  In  reality  it 
had  an  astonishing  but  merited  success.  Glauco, 
the  amorous  fisherman,  in  order  to  obtain  his  Scilla, 
braves  the  sea  and  seeks  renown  and  riches.  But, 
alas  for  human  frailties,  he  falls  under  the  enchant- 
ment of  Calypso.  When  he  returns  to  his  native 
shore  to  claim  his  best-beloved  he  learns  of  the  heart- 
breaking events  that  have  transpired  during  his  ab- 
sence. Neither  he  nor  Scilla  can  tolerate  constant 
reminder  of  them  and  they  disappear  in  the  deep 
waves  after  one  of  the  most  remarkable  farewells  in 
modern  literature. 

Morselli  does  not  follow  either  the  mythological 
stories  or  their  recent  reconstruction  very  closely. 
On  the  contrary  he  makes  the  events  of  the  legends 
harmonize  with  or  conform  to  the  laws  that  govern 
modern  amatoriousness.  His  heroes  react  in  their 
love  and  hate,  ambition,  realizations,  in  the  same  way 
as  the  people  of  to-day.  His  world  is  a  mythological 
world,  but  it  is  scenery  in  which  we  live  or  visit, 
and  it  is  peopled  by  men  and  women  who  love,  hate, 
envy,  portray,  succor,  and  defend,  quite  like  the  mod- 
ern world. 

He  has  recently  published  two  new  dramas  entitled 
"Belfagor"  and  "Dafni  e  Cloe.,,    His  fiction  is  a 


146  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

volume  of  fanciful  tales  called  "Favole per  i  Re  d'Oggi" 
("  Fables  for  the  Kings  of  To-day"),  and  short  stories 
which  have  appeared  in  magazines  and  journals. 

Another  young  writer  for  the  stage  is  Nino  Berrini. 
The  success  of  "II  Beffardo"  ("The  Jester")  was  so 
great  that  one  may  confidently  look  forward  to  his 
career  without  fear  of  disappointment. 

Other  successes  in  the  theatrical  world  of  1919  in 
Italy  were  "La  Vena  d'Oro"  ("The  Vein  of  Gold"), 
of  Zorzi,  and  in  much  lesser  degree  "La  nostra 
I     Ricchezza"  of  Gotta. 

The  author  of  the  latter  is  a  man  of  thirty-three  years 
who  returned  from  the  war  with  new  ideas  regard- 
ing the  rights  of  the  people,  liberty,  or  whatever  one 
calls  that  which  underlies  the  present  social  unrest. 
He  has  written  many  short  stories,  several  romances, 
of  which  "Ragnatele"  ("Cobwebs"),  "II  Figlio  In- 
quieto"  ("The  Restless  Son")  and  "La  piu  Bella 
Donna  del  Mondo"  ("The  Most  Beautiful  Woman  in 
the  World")  are  the  most  important. 

Not  only  is  he  a  man  of  ideas,  but  he  has  disciplined 
himself  to  a  chaste  and  virile  way  of  expressing  them. 
In  "Our  Riches"  he  has  given  an  admirable  picture  of 
the  honest,  high-principled  aristocrat-farmer  of  his 
native  territory  Ivrea,  who  has  the  same  feeling  for  his 
acres  that  the  ideal  patriot  has  for  his  country:  rever- 
ence and  love,  and  a  paternal  interest  in  the  welfare 
of  those  who  gain  their  livelihood  in  serving  him.  In 
contrast  with  him  is  his  grandson,  who  has  the  same 
reverence  and  affection  for  the  ancestral  honie  and 
acres  but  who  sees  life,  its  entailments  and  its  privi- 
leges, in  an  entirely  different  light,  who  is  a  socialist  in 
the  correct  sense  of  the  term.    Then  he  draws  with 


IMPROVISIONAL  ITALIAN  LITERATURE    147 

great  distinctness  the  daughter  of  the  former  and  the 
mother  of  the  latter,  who  is  confronted  with  the  con- 
flict of  choosing  between  her  son,  father,  and  husband, 
the  latter  a  profiteering  shark  in  the  world  of  affairs. 
The  weakness  of  the  play  is  the  author's  failure  or 
unwillingness  to  define  his  own  state  of  mind  con- 
cerning property  rights  and  property  distribution,  or 
to  define  the  relationship  that  should  exist  between 
product  and  producer,  capital  and  labor. 

Were  I  obliged  to  characterize  the  fictional  output 
of  Italy  during  the  past  few  years,  I  should  say  that 
it  was  imaginatively  sterile  and  emotionally  fecund. 
Whereas  much  of  it  displays  technical  efficiency  in 
form,  construction,  and  finish,  it  lacks  originality  and 
does  not  reveal  comprehensive  imaginativeness,  which 
the  renowned  fiction  of  every  country  has  always  had 
and  must  continue  to  have.  It  must  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  it  portrays  human  nature:  that  is,  thoughts 
and  emotional  reactions  incited  and  elicited  by  new 
conditions  and  new  aspirations  in  such  a  way  as  to 
pique  the  reader's  curiosity  and  sustain  his  interest. 

The  Italian  novelists  of  to-day  are  not  story-tellers; 
they  are  incident-relaters,  narrators  of  personal  experi- 
ences, observers  armed  with  cameras. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FICTIONAL  BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Often  I  find  myself  thinking  of  the  justification  of 
autobiographical  writing  in  fiction.  The  modern  Ital- 
ian writer  is  devoted  to  it.  D'Annunzio  set  the  ex- 
ample a  generation  ago  and  carried  it  to  such  a  point 
that  he  outraged  all  sense  of  decency.  So  long  as  he 
confined  himself  to  revelation  of  his  own  alleged 
amatory  potency  and  mastery  of  the  arts  of  love,  even 
though  he  trampled  upon  sacred  ideals,  the  public 
tolerated  it.  When  he  strained  the  sensualities  of 
well-known  and  beloved  notabilities  through  the  per- 
colators of  his  perverse  imagination  they  sickened  of 
him  and  denounced  him.  It  is  an  exquisite  form  of 
self-appreciation — the  belief  that  the  commonplace 
events,  deliberate  thoughts,  and  vagrant  fancies  of  an 
individual  who  has  in  no  way  distinguished  himself 
will  divert  and  instruct  others,  and  that  they  are 
worthy  of  record.  The  fact  that  such  writings  are 
bought  is  the  justification  they  allege.  But  the  public 
is  like  the  editor  of  a  magazine.  He  has  to  read  reams 
of  trash  to  find  one  worthy  and  acceptable  contribu- 
tion. The  purpose  of  fiction  may  be  manifold,  but 
it  is  read  chiefly  for  distraction  and  diversion.  The 
critic  and  interpreter  read  it  to  get  the  temper  of  the. 
public  mind  and  the  trend  of  its  projection,  but  the  pur- 
chaser of  it  reads  it  to  get  surcease  of  the  woes  of  life, 
whether  they  be  the  ruts  worn  by  operating  the  daily 

148 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    149 

treadmill  or  the  despondencies  thrust  upon  him  by 
circumstances  more  inexorable  than  the  tigers  of 
Hyrcania.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  occurrences  in 
the  life  of  another  commonplace  individual  even 
though  they  are  pieced  with  fiction  will  suffice  to 
provide  this.  Therefore  those  who  turn  to  the  narra- 
tion of  the  lives  of  others  in  which  there  have  been 
stirring  events,  picturesque  phases,  and  romantic 
incidents  are  likely  to  have  greater  success.  Whether 
it  is  a  legitimate  procedure  is  another  question.  It 
is  a  matter  of  taste.  It  was  as  justifiable  for  Mr. 
Somerset  Maugham  to  portray  Paul  Gauguin  in  "The 
Moon  and  Sixpence"  as  it  was  for  Mr.  Morley  Roberts 
to  describe  George  Gissing  in  "The  Private  Life  of 
Henry  Maitland,"  and  even  more  so,  for  the  latter 
had  revealed  himself  adequately  in  his  books.  Noth- 
ing was  to  be  gained  by  raking  up  a  past  that  led 
through  prison  any  more  than  the  prison  days  of  O. 
Henry  is  an  asset  of  immortality.  Sometimes  such 
writings  have  a  meritoriousness  apart  from  their  liter- 
ary qualities.  The  "Green  Carnation"  did  much 
to  inform  Britishers  how  prevalent  and  pernicious 
was  the  vice  which  its  prototype  was  afterward  locked 
in  Reading  Gaol  for  practising  and  apotheosizing.  To 
take  a  man  whose  fame  has  mounted  steadily  since 
his  death  and  make  a  monster  of  him  is  a  hazardous 
and,  many  will  think,  an  iniquitous  thing  to  do,  even 
though  the  individual  during  his  lifetime  was  un- 
moral and  immoral.  This  is  what  Mr.  Somerset 
Maugham  has  done  for  Paul  Gauguin,  master  of  the 
Pont  Aven  school  of  painting;  dislocater  of  impres- 
sionism and  neo-impressionism;  liberator  of  art  from 
stereotyped,  slavish  copyists  of  nature;  apostle  of  in- 


150  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tellectualism  and  emotionalism  versus  sestheticism,  and 
from  it  he  has  created  Charles  Strickland,  victim  of  a 
strange  disease  resulting  in  dissociation  of  personality. 
The  critics  tell  us  "The  Moon  and  Sixpence"  is  a 
"great"  book.  From  the  standpoint  of  literary  con- 
struction it  may  be  entitled  to  such  designation.  From 
the  standpoint  of  one  who  desires  in  fiction  some  veri- 
similitude of  life  as  it  is,  or  as  it  should  be  if  it  were 
ideal,  it  is  disgusting  and  nauseous,  atavistic  in  im- 
plication, primitive  in  delineation,  bestial  in  its  sug- 
gestion, and  it  tends  to  undermine  faith  in  the  funda- 
mental goodness  of  human  nature.  It  is  radicalism  in 
realism  carried  to  the  nth  degree. 

A  middle-class  Englishman  of  unknown  antecedents, 
of  commonplace  somatic  and  intellectual  possessions, 
of  emotional  barrenness  and  shut-in  personality,  mar- 
ries, procreates,  and  serves — on  the  London  Stock 
Exchange,  after  the  manner  of  his  kind,  until  he  is 
forty.  If  artistic  impulses  had  peeped  from  his  un- 
conscious mind  to  his  conscious  he  had  not  betrayed 
them.  Then,  when  constructive  incubal  activity  had 
passed  its  height,  he  becomes  big  with  the  idea  that 
his  unsightly  hulk  harbors  the  soul  of  an  artist.  He 
forsakes  his  family  without  warning  and  without 
making  the  smallest  provision  for  their  maintenance 
or  welfare,  goes  to  Paris  to  study  art,  to  scorn  con- 
vention and  decency,  and  to  treat  mankind  with  con- 
tumely. He  knows  no  French,  and  gradually  his 
English  vocabulary  shrinks  to  "You  are  a  damn 
fool"  when  a  man  makes  proffer  of  service  or  supper, 
and  "Tell  her  to  go  to  hell"  if  the  offer  of  self  or  succor 
comes  from  a  woman.  When  he  writes,  however,  his 
mental  elaborations  encompass  the  degree  that  per- 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    151 

mits  him  to  pen  this  chaste  message:  "God  damn  my 
wife.  She  is  an  excellent  woman.  I  wish  she  was  in 
hell." 

Like  all  victims  of  dementia  praecox,  when  the  dis- 
order conditions  bizarre  conduct  for  the  first  time  in 
mid-maturity,  he  becomes  profoundly  egocentric,  neg- 
lectful of  his  appearance  and  of  his  person,  and  cal- 
lously insensitive  to  the  feelings  and  rights  of  others. 
As  the  components  of  personality  dissociate  the  god 
disappears,  the  beast  remains,  puissant  and  uncon- 
trollable when  under  the  dominion  of  primeval  appe- 
tites or  instincts.  He  has  no  pride  to  swallow  when 
he  feeds  from  the  hand  that  still  stings  from  slapping 
him,  no  more  than  does  the  Hon  who  devours  the  meat 
thrust  into  his  cage  on  the  prong  that  a  moment  before 
prodded  and  wounded  him. 

"Haven't  you  been  in  love  since  you  came  to  Paris? " 
is  Mr.  Maugham's  euphemistic  question,  in  his  ef- 
fort to  find  out  for  Mrs.  Strickland  if  her  husband  has 
has  been  faithful  to  his  marriage  vows.  After  noting 
Strickland's  "slow  smile  starting  and  sometimes  end- 
ing in  the  eyes,  which  was  very  sensual,  neither  cruel 
nor  kindly,  but  suggested  rather  the  inhuman  glee  of 
the  satyr,"  he  got  this  answer:  "I  haven't  got  time  for 
that  sort  of  nonsense.  Life  isn't  long  enough  for  love 
and  art."  This  is  not  what  Michaelangelo  said  to 
Vittoria  Colonna.  It  is  what  Tom  Cat  says  when  not 
in  the  throes  of  concupiscency.  Then  Mr.  Maugham 
gives  a  new  verbal  dress  to  the  devil,  who  was  sure  when 
ill  he  would  like  to  be  a  monk,  but  who  in  good  health 
didn't  fancy  monastic  life.  "You  know  that  all  the 
time  your  feet  have  been  walking  in  the  mud.  And 
you  want  to  roll  yourself  in  it,  and  you  find  some 


152  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

woman,  coarse  and  low  and  vulgar,  some  beastly 
creature  in  whom  all  the  horror  of  sex  is  blatant,  and 
you  fall  upon  her  like  a  wild  animal.  You  drink  till 
you're  blind  with  rage." 

Poor  Strickland,  in  the  throes  of  mental  dissolution, 
obsessed,  enmeshed  in  stereotypy,  is  still  capable  of 
sufficient  mental  reaction  to  realize  that  "You  are  a 
damn  fool"  or  "Go  to  hell"  was  not  an  appropriate 
rejoinder  or  comment  to  such  a  speech,  so  "He  stared 
at  me  without  the  slightest  movement.  I  held  his 
eyes  with  mine.  I  spoke  very  closely."  "When  it's 
over  you  feel  so  extraordinarily  pure;  you  feel  like  a 
disembodied  spirit,  immaterial,  and  you  seem  to  be 
able  to  touch  beauty  as  though  it  were  a  palpable  thing; 
and  you  feel  an  intimate  communion  with  the  breeze, 
and  with  the  trees  breaking  into  leaf,  and  with  the 
iridescence  of  the  river.  You  feel  like  God."  The 
antivivisectionists  should  get  after  Doctor  Maugham. 
It  is  cruelty  to  humans  to  hold  unfortunate  Strick- 
land with  hypnotic  eye,  and  then  thrust  a  record  of 
experience  so  obviously  personal  upon  him — or  was  it 
only  a  recollection  of  some  published  experiences  of 
George  Sand  and  Alfred  de  Musset — garnered  from 
those  days  when  he  "idled  on  the  quays,  fingering  a 
second-hand  book  that  I  never  meant  to  buy,"  after 
he  settled  down  in  Paris  and  began  to  write  a  play? 

Every  Johnson  has  his  Boswell,  though  he  may  be 
mute,  unrecording,  and  sterile,  and  every  sadist  has 
his  masochist.  The  young  Dutchman,  Vincent  Van 
Gogh,  a  constitutional  psychopath,  whose  mental  aber- 
rations took  him  into  spiritual  exhortation,  social 
reformation,  and  finally  "art,"  often  tried  to  kill  Gau- 
guin.   When  the  latter  showed  himself  versed  in  may- 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY     153 

hem  Van  Gogh  made  his  bed,  lit  his  pipe,  wrapped 
himself  in  serenity  and  shot  himself  in  the  abdomen, 
as  lunatics  often  do.  Not  so  Dick  Stroeve,  Strick- 
land's fidus  Achates.  He  worshipped  Strickland,  who 
reviled  him,  kicked  him,  spat  upon  him;  Stroeve,  who 
naively  asks,  "Have  I  ever  been  mistaken?"  in  his 
estimate  of  artists,  knew  that  Strickland  was  a  great 
artist,  greater  than  Manet  or  Corot,  more  puissant 
than  El  Greco  or  Cezanne,  and  that  he  had  been  sent 
to  complete  the  cycle  which  Delacroix  and  Turner  ush- 
ered in.  Stroeve,  a  passive,  asexual  creature,  had 
married  a  temperamental  English  governess  in  Rome, 
where  he  had  earned  the  soubriquet  of  "le  Maitre  de 
la  Boite  a  Chocolats"  after  she  had  had  a  disastrous 
experience  with  the  son  of  an  Italian  prince  whose 
children  she  had  been  hired  to  instruct. 

When  Strickland  falls  desperately  ill  from  the  com- 
bined effects  of  insufficient  food,  touting  for  pru- 
rient Anglicans,  and  translating  the  advertisements 
of  French  patent  medicines  that  "restore"  Doctor 
Maugham's  countrymen  to  such  a  degree  that  they  may 
go  to  Paris  with  pleasurable  anticipation,  Stroeve  takes 
him  to  his  house,  despite  the  strenuous  opposition  and 
pathetic  protests  of  Mrs.  Stroeve,  whose  previous  fleet- 
ing contacts  with  Strickland  echoed  the  call  of  the  wild 
in  her  and  presaged  disaster.  From  the  moment  he 
arrived  the  fat  was  in  the  fire.  No  affinities  are  so 
difficult  to  keep  from  blending  as  sex  affinities,  face- 
tiously called  soul  affinities  by  the  newspapers.  Strick- 
land's spark  was  fanned  lovingly  into  glow  by  Stroeve, 
and  when  it  flamed  he  threw  Stroeve  out  of  his  house, 
possessed  complaisant  Mrs.  Stroeve  violently,  and 
then  put  her  on  canvas,  nude,  "one  arm  beneath  her 


154  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

head  and  the  other  along  her  body,  one  knee  raised, 
the  other  leg  stretched  out."  After  nature's  cataclysm 
had  spent  itself,  Mrs.  Stroeve  committed  suicide  in 
approved  feminine  fashion  by  taking  a  corroding  acid, 
without  condoning  her  husband's  offense — that  of 
being  virtuous.  When  she  died  ^Stroeve,  a  true 
masochist,  looked  up  Strickland,  forgave  him,  invited 
him  to  go  with  him  to  Holland,  because  "we  both 
loved  Blanche.  There  would  have  been  room  for  him 
in  my  mother's  house.  The  company  of  poor,  simple 
people  would  have  done  his  soul  a  great  good."  But 
Strickland,  becoming  for  the  moment  verbally  more 
expansive,  replied:  " I  have  other  fish  to  fry."  When 
Mr.  Maugham  spoke  to  him  about  Stroeve's  visit  he 
said:  "I  thought  it  damned  silly  and  sentimental." 

The  author  doesn't  attempt  a  synopsis  of  the  mental 
process  that  took  Strickland  to  Tahiti,  via  Marseilles, 
though  he  depicts  experiences  that  parallel  those  of 
Gauguin.  Instead  he  animadverts  on  love  and  the 
sexual  appetite  to  such  purpose  as  to  reveal  that 
he  is  not  expert  in  biology,  psychology,  or  art.  "For 
men  love  is  an  episode  which  takes  its  place  among  the 
other  affairs  of  the  day,  and  the  emphasis  laid  upon 
it  in  novels  gives  it  an  importance  which  is  untrue 
to  life."  But  what  about  the  emphasis  laid  upon  it  by 
countless  thousands  who  find  in  it  a  quality  of  that  en- 
nobling spiritual  peace  called  faith,  and  which  will  be 
their  reward  when  they  repose  in  Abraham's  bosom 
and  live  forever  with  God  in  paradise?  "As  lovers 
the  difference  between  men  and  women  is  that  women 
can  love  all  day  long,  but  men  only  at  times."  And 
the  difference  between  male  and  female  animals  is  that 
the  female  of  the  species  permits  contact  at  certain 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    155 

definite  times,  while  the  males  are  all  Barkises.  "Art 
is  a  manifestation  of  the  sexual  impulse.  It  is  the 
same  emotion  which  is  excited  in  the  human  heart  by 
the  sight  of  a  lovely  woman,  the  Bay  of  Naples  under 
the  yellow  moon,  and  the  '  Entombment '  of  Titian." 
After  the  author  delivered  himself  of  a  statement  so 
pregnant  of  platitude  he  must  have  experienced  a  sense 
of  lightening,  and  a  conviction  that  he  would  not  have 
to  consult  the  Drei  Abhandlungen  zur  Sexualtheorie 
at  least  until  he  wrote  his  next  book. 

That  art  has  a  definite  purpose  to  perpetuate  the 
creative  will  and  that  God  endowed  his  image  with  a 
genesic  instinct  that  he  might  create  and  thus  reproduce 
his  kind  every  one  knows,  but  to  contend  that  one  is 
a  manifestation  of  the  other  is  puerile,  unenlightened, 
and  harks  back  to  barbarism.  One  might  think 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  the  psychology  of  art 
or  the  science  of  aesthetics.  Art  has  an  intellectual 
significance  as  well  as,  or  more  than,  an  emotional 
significance,  and  the  unfortunate,  unhappy,  disequili- 
brated  man  who  is  parodied  in  this  book  contributed 
his  substantial  mite  in  the  twentieth  century  to  make 
us  see  it. 

Any  one  who  reads  the  "Lettres  de  Paul  Gauguin,' ' 
which  are  prefaced  by  a  brief  survey  of  his  life  by 
Victor  Segalen,  or  his  life  by  Jean  de  Rotonchamps, 
which  was  published  at  Weimar  at  the  expense  of 
Count  von  Kessler,  will  see  how  closely  Maugham 
described  Gauguin's  life  in  the  Polynesian  cannibal 
islands.  Strickland  marries  the  native  girl  Ata,  who 
had  a  "beguin"  for  him,  but  Gauguin  had  Tioka  in  his 
maison  de  joie  without  benefit  of  clergy.  Doctor 
Coutras,  who  gives  Mr.  Maugham  so  much  valuable 


156  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

information  (via  Rotonchamps  and  Segalen)  is  M.  Paul 
Vernie,  who  attended  Gauguin  and  wrote  an  account 
of  his  last  days. 

Despite  the  fact  that  in  July,  1914,  the  London  Times 
lifted  the  veil  of  secrecy  from  the  face  of  the  most 
prevalent  disease  in  the  world,  and  thus  announced 
that  the  name  of  the  disease  which  Fracastorius,  the 
poet-physician  of  Verona,  borrowed  from  the  shepherd 
Syphlus  should  be  no  longer  taboo  by  "nice  people," 
the  prevalence  of  the  disease  and  the  efforts  to  com- 
bat it  have  been  widely  discussed,  though  they  are 
not  topics  of  conversation  at  dinner-parties  or  at  "wel- 
fare meetings"  in  churches,  as  tuberculosis  is.  It  is 
for  this  reason,  perhaps,  that  the  author  prefers  to  kill 
his  "hero"  with  leprosy.  But  Doctor  Maugham  has 
been  devoting  so  much  of  his  time  in  latter  years  to 
novels  and  dramas  that  he  finds  the  differentiation  be- 
tween thorn  difficult,  and,  too,  Gauguin's  disease  has 
been  diagnosticated  leprosy,  elephantiasis,  syphilis. 
"La  derniere  de  ces  avaries  est  exacte,  mais  ne  doit 
pas  etre  imputees  au  pays:  c'£tait  une  pure  v6role 
parisienne." 

"The  Moon  and  Sixpence"  is  interesting.  There  is 
scarcely  any  diversion  more  engrossing  than  reading 
about  others'  infirmities  unless  it  be  relating  one's 
own.  Hence  the  continued  popularity  of  Pepys, 
Amiel,  Rousseau,  Marie  Bashkirsteff,  and  other  gar- 
rulous sufferers.  But  it  is  a  book  that  no  one  can  be 
the  better  or  happier  for  reading,  and  it  does  Gauguin's 
memory  an  injury  because  it  parodies  it.  His  life  as  it 
has  been  revealed  to  us  was  bizarre  and  irregular 
enough.  We  could  wish  that  he  had  been  less  like 
Rimbaud  and  more  like  Rodin,  but,  distressing  as  his 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    157 

behavior  was,  seen  in  conventional  light,  we  should 
like  not  to  have  seen  it  featured  in  fiction. 

Mr.  Maugham  wrote  a  novel,  "Out  of  Human  Bond- 
age/5 which  is  a  far  more  meritorious  piece  of  work  than 
"The  Moon  and  Sixpence/ '  in  which  some  of  his 
professional  colleagues — he  is  a  physician — recognized 
portraitures.  Perhaps  it  was  his  success  with  them 
that  encouraged  him  to  try  a  larger  canvas. 

The  author's  admitted  cleverness  was  never  more 
evident  than  in  the  depiction  of  Mrs.  Strickland's  char- 
acter and  characteristics — a  smug  Philistine,  who  runs 
the  gamut  of  preciosity,  jealousy,  martyrdom,  auto- 
righteousness,  and  autosanctification.  She  is  pleased 
and  proud  as  she  views  the  veneer  of  sanctimonious- 
ness which  her  son,  in  holy  orders,  gives  the  dearly  be- 
loved husband  of  Mrs.  Charles  Strickland,  who  wrote 
his  father's  biography  "to  remove  certain  misconcep- 
tions which  had  gained  currency,"  viz.,  that  Doctor 
Maugham  is  masquerading  as  a  psychiatrist  and 
publishing  his  experiences  with  the  insane,  mean- 
while throwing  off  "punk"  about  art  and  traducing 
normal,  though  admittedly  "immoral,"  man. 

"There  is  in  my  nature  a  strain  of  asceticism,  and 
I  have  subjected  my  flesh  each  week  to  a  severe  morti- 
fication. I  have  never  failed  to  read  the  literary 
supplement  of  the  Times."  So  says  Mr.  Somerset 
Maugham.  The  first  part  of  the  statement  is  difficult 
to  believe  after  reading  "The  Moon  and  Sixpence." 
The  latter  part  may  be  true,  but  it  can't  be  truer  than 
the  statement  that  any  one,  possessed  of  ordinary 
decency  and  sensibility,  and  belief  that  love,  senti- 
ment, kindliness,  generosity,  altruism,  forgiveness, 
and  faith  are  the  seven  lamps  that  illumine  our  path 


158  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

on  our  way  to  immortality,  will  subject  his  flesh  to 
severe  mortification,  while  being  interested  and  some- 
times even  amused  by  reading  Mr.  Maugham's  new 
book. 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE  LITERARY  MAUSOLEUM  OF  SAMUEL  BUTLER 

"Those  two  fat  volumes  with  which  it  is  our  custom  to  commemorate 
the  dead — who  does  not  know  them,  with  their  ill-digested  masses  of 
material,  their  slipshod  style,  their  love  of  tedious  panegyric,  their 
lamentable  lack  of  selection,  of  detachment,  of  design?" 

— Lytton  Strachey. 

Samuel  Butler's  "Note-books"  and  "The  Author- 
ess of  the  Odyssey"  added  to  the  delights  of  the  spring 
of  1915,  which  I  spent  in  Sicily.  The  former,  which  is 
the  quintessence  of  his  wisdom  and  his  impudence, 
gave  revealing  peeps  into  the  mental  and  emotional 
make-up  of  the  man  who  in  "Erewhon"  forecast  the 
advent  of  the  supremacy  of  machines  and  anticipated 
Mrs.  Eddy  in  considering  disease  a  sin  and  a  crime, 
and  the  latter  gave  a  quickened  interest  to  Trapani, 
Segesta,  and  many  other  places,  some  of  which  have 
since  become  shrines  in  my  memory. 

From  these  "Note-Books"  and  from  "The  Way  with 
All  Flesh,"  which  gave  a  remarkable  vista  of  his  own 
unconscious  mind  as  well  as  those  of  his  ancestors, 
I  made  a  vivid  picture  of  the  author.  It  has  been 
blurred,  and  in  some  respects  quite  erased  by  the 
two  massive  biographic  volumes  recently  given  to 
the  world  by  Mr.  Henry  Festing  Jones,*  and  which 
depicts  him  in  all  the  nakedness  of  his  virtues  and  his 
infirmities,  revealing  an  unloving  and  unlovable  char- 

*  "  Samuel  Butler,  author  of  '  Erewhon,' "  a  memoir  by  Henry  Festing 
Jones,  Macmillan  &  Co.,  London,  1919. 

159 


160  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

acter.  Some  day  it  will  be  explained  to  us  why  we 
cannot  be  left  in  possession  of  the  cherished  delusions 
that  add  to  our  happiness,  increase  our  good-will 
toward  our  fellow  men,  and  in  no  wise  impair  the 
reputations  of  those  to  whom  they  are  directed. 

One  of  the  things  that  is  most  difficult  to  forgive 
a  biographer  is  the  wealth  of  sordid  details  they  give 
us  about  our  gods.  Who  can  forgive  Ranieri,  for 
instance,  for  having  told  us  with  so  much  particularity 
that  Leopardi  hated  to  change  his  shirt  or  to  take  a 
bath,  that  he  had  a  passion  for  cheap  sweets,  that  he 
insisted  upon  keeping  the  servants  of  the  household 
where  he  was  a  guest  up  until  midnight  in  order  that 
he  might  have  his  principal  meal,  that  he  was  mor- 
bidly susceptible  to  adulation?  It  does  not  advan- 
tage any  one  to  know  such  things,  even  if  they  are  true, 
and  if  it  serves  any  laudable  purpose  I  am  not  aware 
that  it  has  been  set  forth. 

Mr.  Jones's  biography  is  painfully  candid  and 
distressingly  frank  and  confidential. 

Samuel  Butler's  life  was  one  of  rebellion  and  resig- 
nation, of  contention  and  strife,  of  unhappiness  and 
unyieldingness,  of  disappointment  and  suspicion,  of 
wrongheartedness  and  rightmindedness,  of  rude  energy 
and  crude  revery.  He  had  a  vanity  of  his  intellectual 
capacity  that  transcends  all  understanding  and  a 
passion  for  what  he  called  doing  things  thoroughly. 
He  believed  in  the  music  of  Handel,  in  the  art  of 
Giovanni  Bellini,  and  his  credo  was  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  St.  Paul's  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
which  apotheosizes  charity  and  humility.  Samuel  But- 
ler may  have  had  charity  and  humility  on  his  lips, 
but  I  fail  to  find  from  reading  his  biography  that  they 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  161 

ever  got  as  far  as  his  heart.  He  had  an  unhappy 
childhood,  a  perturbed  adolescence,  a  lonely  and  iso- 
lated early  manhood,  an  obsessed  maturity,  and  an 
emotionally  sterile  old  age.  He  hated  his  father,  he 
pitied  his  mother,  he  barely  tolerated  his  sisters,  and 
he  suspected  the  integrity  and  motives  of  his  illustri- 
ous contemporaries  who,  though  polite  to  him,  per- 
sonally ignored  him  controversially.  Indeed,  part  of 
the  time  he  must  have  felt  himself  a  modern,  though 
tame  Ishmael,  his  hand  against  every  man,  and  every 
man's  hand  against  him. 

Although  he  had  a  few  forgiving,  appreciative 
friends,  a  constant  and  ardent  mistress,  and  a  devoted 
servant  who  mothered  and  domineered  him,  engrossing 
interests  and  boundless  energy,  still  he  was  chronically 
unhappy,  the  sweetness  of  his  soul  being  embittered  by 
contempt  of  his  fellow  men. 

The  offspring  of  a  narrow-minded,  obstinate,  in- 
flexible, selfish  father  and  a  gentle,  reverential,  yield- 
ing, and  kindly  mother,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that 
he  would  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father  and 
grandfather  and  become  a  clergyman.  He  found  when 
he  began  to  take  thought  that  he  could  not  accept  the 
Christian  miracles  or  believe  in  a  personal,  anthropo- 
morphic God.  So  he  went  to  New  Zealand  and  be- 
came a  successful  sheep-grazer,  and  within  five  years 
he  had  more  than  doubled  the  four  thousand  pounds 
which  he  had  been  able  to  screw  from  his  father. 

His  fife  during  these  years  is  interesting  in  so  much 
as  it  shows  how  a  man  of  education  and  breeding  lived 
in  the  bush  while  developing  intellectually.  The  devil 
often  tempted  him  there,  but  not  always  with  suc- 
cess, though  he  became  terribly  fussed  over  the  death 


162  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  resurrection  of  Christ.  He  thought  and  wrote 
about  it,  but  he  was  not  successfully  delivered  from 
his  dilemma  until  the  idea  of  "Erewhon"  took  pos- 
session of  him.  This  idea  was  that  machines  were 
about  to  supplant  the  human  race  and  be  developed 
into  a  higher  kind  of  life.  When  the  conception  first 
seized  him  he  wrote  to  Charles  Darwin,  whom  he 
started  by  admiring  and  ended  by  despising,  that  he 
developed  it  "for  mere  fun  and  because  it  amused  him 
and  without  a  particle  of  serious  meaning."  He  had 
Butler's  "Analogy"  in  his  head  as  the  book  at  which 
it  should  be  aimed,  but  when  "Erewhon"  appeared 
most  readers  thought  he  had  "The  Origin  of  Species" 
in  mind. 

From  this  time  one  begins  to  see  how  extraordinarily 
laborious  were  all  of  Butler's  writings.  "Erewhon" 
was  not  published  until  eight  years  later,  during  which 
time  he  had  written  and  rewritten,  corrected  and  re- 
corrected,  pruned,  elaborated,  and  incorporated  sen- 
tences from  letters,  records  of  experiences  which  he 
had  while  prospecting  for  and  developing  his  sheep- 
run,  and  innumerable  notes  from  a  commonplace  book 
which  he  early  acquired  the  art  of  keeping.  Ten 
years  after  its  publication  he  wrote  to  an  ^discriminat- 
ing, ardent  admirer:  "I  don't  like  'Erewhon';  still 
it  is  good  for  me." 

The  next  book  he  wrote,  "The  Fair  Haven,"  he  liked 
very  much,  but  few  others  did.  When  he  was  a 
very  young  man  he  had  written  a  pamphlet  on  the 
Resurrection.  He  was  disappointed  that  it  made 
little  or  no  impression.  Finally  he  decided  it  had 
been  written  too  seriously.  It  then  occurred  to  him 
to  treat  the  subject  as  he  had  treated  the  analogy  of 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  163 

crime  and  disease  in  "Erewhon."  The  book  purports 
to  be  written  by  the  son  of  a  clergyman,  the  antithesis 
of  Butler's  father,  insane  before  the  manuscript  was 
completed,  and  of  a  mother,  the  replica  of  his  own 
mother.  A  brother  gives  the  book  to  the  world,  pre- 
fixing a  memoir  of  the  author  modelled  after  Butler. 
The  book  fell  flat.  The  few  who  resented  it  were 
the  sensitive  orthodox  whose  feelings  were  outraged. 
Butler  could  not  understand  why  he  was  unable 
to  induce  people  to  reconsider  the  gospel  accounts  of 
the  Crucifixion  and  the  Resurrection. 

The  second  distinctive  characteristic  of  Butler's 
make-up  was  his  spirit  of  God-I-thank-thee-that-I-am- 
no  t-as-other-men . 

When  Butler  left  New  Zealand  he  had  eight  thousand 
pounds,  partly  in  his  pocket  and  partly  invested  in  the 
country  that  had  been  so  bountiful  to  him;  he  de- 
cided to  return  to  England  and  devote  himself  to 
painting,  which  he  felt  convinced  was  the  field  of 
activity  in  which  he  gave  real  promise.  It  was  then 
from  the  exceeding  high  mountain  that  he  saw  Charles 
Payne  Pauli,  of  Winchester,  and  Pembroke  College, 
Oxford,  who  had  gone  out  to  the  colony  and  found 
employment  on  a  newspaper.  One  evening  Pauli 
called  upon  Butler  and  stayed  talking  until  midnight. 
"I  suddenly  became  aware  that  I  had  become  intimate 
with  a  personality  quite  different  from  that  of  any 
one  whom  I  had  ever  known."  Within  a  few  months 
there  was  established  a  strange  intimacy,  "one  of 
those  one-sided  friendships  when  a  diffident,  poetical 
shy  man  becomes  devoted  to  the  confident,  showy, 
real  man  as  a  dog  to  his  master."  He  loaned  Pauli 
one  hundred  pounds  that  he  might  return  with  him  to 


164  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

England;  he  maintained  him  in  London  until  Pauli 
was  called  to  the  bar;  then  he  put  him  on  an  allowance 
which  he  continued  for  many  years  and  which  used 
up  one-half  of  his  savings  and  earnings. 

When  Pauli  began  to  earn  a  comfortable  income  at 
the  bar  he  treated  Butler  with  scorn,  though  accepting 
money  and  food  from  him.  When  he  died  none  of  the 
nine  thousand  pounds  which  he  had  accumulated  was 
left  to  Butler.  Indeed,  the  latter  did  not  know  of  his 
death  until  he  saw  a  notice  of  it  in  the  London  Times. 
However,  his  love  for  Pauli,  which  surpassed  under- 
standing, surmounted  all  obstacles  and  he  wrote  a 
long,  detailed  account  of  the  relation  between  him- 
self and  Pauli  which,  his  biographer  says,  if  ever 
printed  in  full,  will  be  "very  painful  reading." 

Some  time  before  he  broke  with  Pauli  he  started  a 
friendship  with  another  man  which  fortunately  did 
not  test  his  indulgence  and  his  generosity  to  a  similar 
extent,  but  it  was  no  less  remarkable.  Indeed,  it  was 
more  so,  for  Butler  was  now  fifty-six,  and  he  poured 
the  depleted  vessels  of  his  affection  upon  Hans  Rudolf 
Faesch  in  such  a  way  as  practically  to  submerge  this 
young  man.  I  doubt  if  there  is  anything  in  literature 
of  men's  friendships  which  for  intensity  of  passion  and 
affection  surpasses  the  letters  which  Butler  addressed 
to  the  young  Swiss.  The  poem,  "Out  in  the  Night," 
addressed  to  Faesch  on  his  departure  for  Singapore,  is 
a  genuine,  impassioned  expression  of  grief  coming 
straight  from  the  heart.  And  the  letters  to  Faesch 
are  truly  remarkable  documents.  In  fact,  the  letter 
written  to  Hans  Faesch  after  he  had  started  for  Singa- 
pore, when  Butler  was  fifty-nine  years  old,  might  well 
have  been  written  by  Pericles  to  Aspasia  or  by  a  senti- 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  165 

mental  youth  to  his  dulcina.  "I  should  be  ashamed 
of  myself  for  having  felt  so  keenly  and  spoken  with 
as  little  reserve  as  I  have  if  it  were  any  one  but  you; 
but  I  feel  no  shame  at  any  length  to  which  grief  can 
take  me  when  it  is  about  you."  And  yet  we  speak  of 
Anglo-Saxon  frigidity  and  aloofness! 

Butler  would  seem  never  to  have  been  in  love  in  the 
ordinary  usual  way.  We  are  justified  in  concluding 
that  he  had  only  a  tenderness  for  "  Madame,"  who 
"during  the  twenty  years  of  intimacy  with  Butler  had 
no  rivals."  Certainly  he  never  was  in  love  with  Eliza- 
beth Mary  Ann  Savage,  an  extraordinary  woman 
whose  mentality  is  reflected  in  all  of  Butler's  books. 
From  1871,  when  he  was  writing  "Erewhon,"  until 
her  death,  in  1885,  Butler  submitted  to  Miss  Savage 
everything  he  wrote,  and  remodelled  in  accordance 
with  her  criticisms  and  suggestions.  Not  only  did 
he  submit  the  drafts  of  his  books  to  her,  but  the 
suggestions  of  many  of  them  originated  with  her.  If 
ever  the  soul  and  spirit  of  one  person  operated  through 
another,  the  soul  and  spirit  of  this  brilliant  woman 
operated  through  the  apparent  mental  elaborations  of 
Samuel  Butler.  She  understood  him  as  no  one  else 
understood  him;  she  loved  him  as  no  other  woman 
loved  him.  Her  devotion  to  him,  her  appreciation  of 
his  talent,  her  unrequited  love,  her  unfailing  humor 
and  mirth,  her  incomparable  courage  when  confronted 
with  serious  disease  and  with  death,  and  her  apparent 
willingness  that  her  talent  should  shine  through  him 
is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  things  in  literature. 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  neither  his  biogra- 
phers nor  the  critics  of  Butler's  writings  have  given 
the  subject  adequate  consideration. 


166  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Some  years  ago  a  youthful  Austrian  psychopath, 
Weininger,  wrote  a  book,  "Geschlecht  und  Charakter," 
which  had  great  popularity.  It  was  widely  read  in 
the  original  and  in  translations.  Amongst  other 
things  that  he  discussed  was  the  sex  endowment  of 
man.  The  hundred  per  cent  male  is  very  uncommon, 
and  he  is  rarely  encountered  amongst  creative  artists. 
The  feminine  percentage  in  them  is  considerable,  often 
more  than  fifty  per  cent.  Samuel  Butler  had  many 
feminine  traits.  He  was  vain,  gossipy,  vindictive, 
swayed  by  his  emotions,  and  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
wooed  by  a  woman.  He  took  from  Elizabeth  Mary 
Ann  Savage  without  giving  a  quid  pro  quo  or  even  ac- 
knowledgment. He  did  not  have  the  courage  to  say 
to  her  in  the  flesh  what  he  said  of  her  in  the  grave. 
He  sold  to  the  public  as  of  his  own  manufacture  the 
warp  and  woof  of  her  intellectual  weavings.  Her 
letters,  which  form  such  a  large  part  of  the  first  vol- 
ume of  these  memoirs  and  which  Butler  wrote  to  her 
father  "the  like  of  which  I  have  never  elsewhere  seen," 
testify  the  public  debt  to  her  contracted  in  the  name 
of  Samuel  Butler. 

The  wit,  humor,  irony,  and  sarcasm  of  these  letters 
all  combine  to  reveal  a  remarkable  soul  and  rare 
personality.  For  twenty  years  she  was  a  true,  stead- 
fast, resourceful,  sympathetic  helpmate  to  Samuel 
Butler.  He  accepted  her  amatory  homage  and  her 
literary  co-operation,  and  she  might  legitimately  have 
inferred  from  his  letters  that  she  was  somatically  as 
well  as  spiritually  sympathetic.  Many  women  have 
convinced  themselves  that  their  passion  was  recipro- 
cated by  men  who  gave  less  tangible  evidence  of  it 
than  Samuel  Butler  gave  Miss   Savage.    That  she 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  167 

loved  him  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  her  unsesthetic 
appearance  appalled  him,  her  halting  stride  annoyed 
him,  and  her  loving  attentions  bored  him.  Some 
years  after  her  death  he  composed  two  sonnets  to  her 
memory,  the  first  exquisitely  vulgar,  the  second  pain- 
fully pathetic. 

"She  was  too  kind,  wooed  too  persistently, 
Wrote  moving  letters  to  me  day  by  day; 
The  more  she  wrote,  the  more  unmoved  was  I, 
The  more  she  gave,  the  less  could  I  repay, 
Therefore  I  grieve  not  that  I  was  not  loved 
But  that,  being  loved,  I  could  not  love  again. 
I  liked;    but  like  and  love  are  far  removed; 
Hard  though  I  tried  to  love  I  tried  in  vain. 
For  she  was  plain  and  lame  and  fat  and  short, 
Forty  and  over-kind.     Hence  it  befell 
That,  though  I  loved  her  in  a  certain  sort, 
Yet  did  I  love  too  wisely  but  not  well. 

Ah !    had  she  been  more  beauteous  or  less  kind 
She  might  have  found  me  of  another  mind. 

"And  now,  though  twenty  years  are  come  and  gone, 
That  little  lame  lady's  face  is  with  me  still; 
Never  a  day  but  what,  on  every  one, 
She  dwells  with  me  as  dwell  she  ever  will. 
She  said  she  wished  I  knew  not  wrong  from  right; 
It  was  not  that;    I  knew,  and  would  have  chosen 
Wrong  if  I  could,  but,  in  my  own  despite, 
Power  to  choose  wrong  in  my  chilled  veins  was  frozen. 
'Tis  said  that  if  a  woman  woo,  no  man 
Should  leave  her  till  she  have  prevailed;    and,  true, 
A  man  will  yield  for  pity  if  he  can, 
But  if  the  flesh  rebels  what  can  he  do? 

I  could  not;    hence  I  grieve  my  whole  life  long 
The  wrong  I  did  in  that  I  did  no  wrong.*' 


168  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Her  memory  deserves  a  better  fate  than  interment 
in  Mr.  Jones's  huge  mausoleum. 

The  third  of  Samuel  Butler's  distinguishing  char- 
acteristics was  that  he  was  incapable  of  falling  in  love 
with  any  one  but  himself. 

He  labored  prodigiously  to  become  a  painter,  and 
during  his  life  he  succeeded  in  having  five  pictures 
hung  in  the  Royal  Academy  exposition.  However, 
he  never  got  out  of  Class  C  as  a  painter,  and  when  he 
was  forty-one  he  forsook  the  brush  for  the  pen.  Mean- 
while he  had  (according  to  his  father)  killed  his  mother 
by  the  publication  of  "Erewhon,"  launched  "The 
Fair  Haven,"  got  thoroughly  enmeshed  in  the  teachings 
of  Darwin  and  the  contentions  of  Mivart,  Lamarck, 
and  others,  plunged  into  Hellenic  literature  to  give  it 
specificity  of  origin  and  display,  and  was  otherwise  very 
busy  pushing  over  statues  of  heroes  which  he  mistook 
for  tin  soldiers.  Early  in  life  he  began  keeping  notes. 
His  principle  was  that  if  you  wanted  to  record  a 
thought  you  had  to  shoot  it  on  the  wing.  When  he 
thought  of  or  said  anything  especially  illuminating 
or  amusing,  or  heard  any  one  else  say  anything  of  the 
sort,  down  it  went.  He  was  his  own  Boswell  with 
all  of  that  immortaPs  colloquiality  and  ingenuousness. 
He  did  not  hesitate  to  make  frank  comments  on  the 
people  he  met,  and  photographic  descriptions  of  such 
individuals,  of  his  family  and  friends,  and  their  let- 
ters went  to  make  up  the  novel  (if  novel  a  narrative 
of  fact  can  be  called)  through  which  he  was  made 
known  to  the  general  public,  and  by  which  he  will 
probably  be  longest  remembered,  namely,  "The  Way 
of  All  Flesh."  It  was  begun  when  he  was  thirty-one 
and  finished  fifteen  years  later.     Because  it  is  auto- 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  169 

biographical,  and  biographical  of  his  family  and 
friends,  he  found  the  necessity  of  frequently  rewriting 
it,  as  time,  event,  and  God  changed  them. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  merits  and  de- 
merits of  that  book.  It  had  an  artificial  popularity — 
Mr.  G.  Bernard  Shaw  being  the  artificer.  There  was 
one  thing  about  it  concerning  which  every  one  agreed : 
to  pillory  your  parents  in  public  is  the  equivalent  of 
beating  them  up  in  private. 

The  fourth  of  Samuel  Butler's  characteristics  was 
insensitiveness  to  what  is  generally  called  refinement 
or  finer  feeling.  Though  an  artist  he  had  little  aesthetic 
awareness.  If  he  knew  the  canons  of  good  taste  he 
did  not  subscribe  to  them.  What  he  called  his  little 
jokes,  which  Mr.  Jones  relates  with  great  gustfulness, 
is  the  ample  proof  of  this  accusation.  "What  is  more 
subversive  of  a  sultan's  dignity  than  pinching  his  leg? 
Pinching  his  sultana's  leg."  "We  shall  not  get  in- 
fanticide, permission  of  suicide,  cheap  and  easy  divorce, 
and  other  social  arrangements  till  Jesus  Christ's  ghost 
has  been  laid."  Cheap  and  vulgar  prostitution  of 
intellectual  possession  a  gentleman  would  call  it. 

Mr.  Jones  and  Alfred,  clerk,  valet,  and  general  at- 
tendant, "a  live  young  thing  about  the  place,  and  a 
cheerful  addition  to  15  Clifford's  Inn,"  became  very 
intimate  with  Butler.  Mr.  Jones  had  been  a  barrister, 
but  had  abandoned  the  law  and  was  under  a  modest 
retainer  of  two  hundred  a  year  from  Butler  to  give 
him  Boswellian  service.  They  found  Butler  compan- 
ionable, and  there  are  such  indications  as  letters  from 
casual  acquaintances,  particularly  in  Italy,  to  show 
that  he  was  agreeable  and  sympathetic  to  some  per- 
sons. 


170  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Aside  from  these  there  is  very  little  in  these  two 
massive  volumes  to  testify  to  the  kindness,  gentle- 
ness, simpleness,  and  humility  of  Samuel  Butler. 
Apparently  he  disliked  every  one  with  whom  he  had 
to  do  or  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  save  Mr. 
Pauli,  Mr.  Faesch,  Lord  Beaconsfield,  and  Richard 
Garnett.  Still  he  was  pleased  with  Mr.  Garnett's 
discomfiture  on  hearing  his  lecture  on  "The  Humor  of 
Homer."  Searching  Mr.  Jones's  plethoric  volumes 
carefully,  it  is  difficult  to  find  kind  or  appreciative 
words  for  contemporary  or  forebear. 

"How  many  years  was  it  before  I  learned  to  dis- 
like Thackeray  or  Tennyson  as  much  as  I  do  now?" 
"Middlemarch  is  a  long-winded  piece  of  studied  brag." 
"What  a  wretch  Carlyle  must  be  to  run  Goethe  as  he 
has  done!"  "We  talked  about  Charlotte  Bronte; 
Butler  did  not  like  her."  "I  do  not  like  Mr.  W.  J. 
Stillman  at  all."  "I  do  not  remember  that  Edwin 
Lear  told  us  anything  particularly  amusing."  "All  I 
remember  about  John  Morley  is  that  I  disliked  and 
distrusted  him."  "I  dislike  Rossetti's  face  and  his 
manner  and  his  work,  and  I  hate  his  poetry  and  his 
friends."  "No,  I  do  not  like  Lamb;  you  see  Canon 
Anger  writes  about  him,  and  Canon  Anger  goes  to  tea 
with  my  sisters."  "Blake  was  no  good  because  he 
learned  Italian  at  over  sixty  in  order  to  read  Dante, 
and  we  know  Dante  was  no  good  because  he  was  so 
fond  of  Virgil,  and  Virgil  was  no  good  because  Tenny- 
son ran  him,  and  as  for  Tennyson,  well,  Tennyson  goes 
without  saying."  "I  said  I  was  glad  Stanley  was 
dead."  "I  never  read  a  line  of  Marcus  Aurelius  that 
left  me  wiser  than  I  was  before."  Speaking  of  Maeter- 
linck, who  was  then  coming  to  his  estate,  "Now  a  true 


SAMUEL  BUTLER  171 

genius  cannot  so  soon  be  recognized.  If  a  man  of 
thirty-five  can  get  such  admiration  he  is  probably  a 
very  good  man,  but  he  is  not  one  of  those  who  will 
redeem  Israel.' '  Though  Butler  was  fascinated  by  G. 
Bellini,  he  surely  had  heard  of  Raphael. 

Darwin,  Wallace,  Ray  Lankester,  most  of  the  scien- 
tists of  his  time  who  did  not  fully  agree  with  him; 
novelists,  philosophers,  artists,  poets — all  excited  his 
disapproval.  When  he  was  fifty-three  he  made  a 
note  to  remind  himself  to  call  Tennyson  the  Darwin 
of  poetry  and  Darwin  the  Tennyson  of  science.  Thus 
would  he  empty  the  vials  of  his  wrath  and  contempt. 

He  acided  his  system,  as  the  Italians  say,  with 
hatred  and  envy  of  his  fellow  man  who  had  achieved 
fame  or  who  was  upon  the  road  to  it.  It  is  difficult  to 
rid  one's  mind  of  the  thought  that  the  motive  that 
prompted  him  to  literary  work  was  that  he  might  show 
how  contemptibly  inadequate  the  masters  were  op 
had  been,  all  of  them  save  Handel  and  G.  Bellini. 

Samuel  Butler  took  himself  with  great  solemnity. 
He  believed  what  he  wanted  to  believe  and  he  be- 
lieved he  knew  about  many  things  far  better  than  ex- 
perts and  empiricists.  When  they  did  not  agree  with 
him  he  took  great  umbrage  and  wrote  disagreeable 
letters  to  them  or  made  disparaging  references  to  them 
in  his  notes.  "He  never  could  form  an  opinion  on  a 
subject  until  he  had  established  his  volatile  thoughts 
and  caged  them  in  a  note.  This  enabled  him  to  make 
up  his  mind.,,  Thus  he  made  up  his  mind,  aided  by 
Miss  Savage,  that  "The  Odyssey"  was  written  by  a 
female,  or,  to  use  his  felicitous  expression,  "any  woman 
save  Mrs.  Barrett  Browning." 

Samuel  Butler's  most  deforming  characteristic  was 


172  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

lack  of  reverence.  He  was  endowed  with  an  orderly 
mind.  It  was  his  passion  and  pastime  to  train  and 
develop  it.  He  never  let  anything  stand  in  the  way 
of  accomplishing  that  purpose.  His  greatest  literary 
gift  was  his  capacity  for  presenting  evidence.  His 
chief  weakness  was  his  incapacity  to  gather  evidence. 
He  assumed  certain  things  and  then  proceeded  to  prove 
to  the  reader  that  they  were  facts.  This  is  a  proce- 
dure that  has  never  had  favor  in  the  courts  or  in  the 
laboratories.  Neither  has  it  been  accepted  as  a  legiti- 
mate procedure  in  what  might  be  called  constructive 
literature,  critical  or  creative.  The  only  place  where 
it  has  ever  been  received  with  favor  is  the  pulpit, 
and  Samuel  Butler  was  the  true  son  of  the  cloth  which 
he  did  so  much  to  deride  and  from  which  he  believed 
he  had  divested  himself. 

We  should  never  have  known  what  a  pathetic  figure 
he  was  if  Mr.  Jones  had  not  seen  fit  in  his  affection  and 
his  obsession  to  reveal  him  to  us.  We  can  forgive  Mr. 
Jones  for  this,  however,  because  of  his  belief  that 
Samuel  Butler  is  immortal.  Would  that  we  could 
also  forgive  him  for  publishing  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Butler 
standing  before  the  hearth  in  the  sitting-room  of  his 
home — in  his  shirt-sleeves!  We  could  not  have  been 
more  shocked  had  we  found  that  he  wore  garters 
around  his  arms  to  regulate  the  length  of  his  shirt- 
sleeves. England  indeed  is  changed.  This  life  of 
Butler  gives  the  lie  to  Britishers,  reputation  for  stolid- 
ity and  formality. 


CHAPTER  X 
SAINTS  AND  SINNERS 

Many  a  pia  mater  has  been  stretched  to  aching  in 
the  past  few  years  by  thoughts  of  death  and  its  harvest 
of  human  flower  in  first,  fresh  bloom.  Mystics  have 
tried  to  give  death  a  symbolic  significance;  they  would 
have  us  believe  that  it  has  or  will  have  a  repercussion 
in  some  occult  way  beneficent  to  the  world  and  those 
who  are  allowed  to  tarry  here.  "What  is  this  grave 
which  the  world  was  coming  in  its  heart  and  in  its 
daily  practices  to  treat  as  final?  May  it  not  be  that 
the  answer  of  the  whole  world,  which  is  busy  with  the 
question,  will  bring  into  being  a  new  adaptation  of 
living  to  dying — a  new  Death?"  is  the  way  one  of 
them  expresses  herself.  Were  we  concerned  herein 
with  death,  either  new  or  old,  we  might  deny  her 
premise  any  foundation,  and  reason  therefore  that 
any  conclusion  she  might  incline  to  draw  must  be 
false  and  misleading.  The  world  has  in  its  heart  to- 
day a  yearning  for  promise  and  proof  of  immortality 
such  as  its  composite  heart  has  never  had.  That 
Christianity  as  practised  fails  to  satisfy  that  yearning, 
does  not  justify  the  allegation  that  the  thinkers  of  the 
world  have  become  materialists. 

Historians  and  critics  who  view  the  question  from  a 
biologic  angle  profess  to  see  in  war  a  contribution  to 
our  evolutionary  progress:  it  kills  many  of  the  most 
virile,  but  it  kills  also  the  weaklings,  actual  and  poten- 
tial.   The  virile  who  remain  push  the  weaklings  to  the 

173 


174  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

wall,  particularly  in  the  procreative  contest.  It  puts 
a  premium  on  prowess  and  valor,  and  makes  the  race 
franker  and  braver,  more  resolute  and  more  efficient; 
it  uproots  decadency;  it  sacrifices  the  grain  to  get  rid 
of  the  tare;  it  plucks  the  flower  that  the  thistle  may 
be  eradicated.  The  philosopher  accepts  it  as  a  part 
of  God's  programme:  some  he  allows  to  succumb  to 
bullets,  others  to  germs.  The  latter  is  the  wise  man, 
for  he  accepts  things  as  they  are,  and  at  the  same  time 
tries  to  shape  their  course  in  a  way  that  will  give  him 
and  those  he  loves,  which  is  all  mankind,  the  greatest 
safety. 

We  get  accustomed  to  and  become  tolerant  of  every- 
thing save  pain.  Even  in  such  upheaval  as  the  World 
War  it  was  beyond  belief  how  little  the  mechanism  of 
daily  life  was  disjointed.  Fifteen  millions  of  men  and 
more  were  engaged  in  a  life-and-death  struggle,  and 
yet  the  ordinary  events  of  daily  life  were  very  little 
disturbed.  People  seemed  to  have  time  for  work,  for 
play,  for  relaxation,  for  contemplation.  I  was  always 
reminded  of  this  by  reading  the  papers  and  observing 
people  in  theatres,  concert-halls,  stadia,  churches, 
restaurants,  and  public  places  generally.  I  realize 
full  well  that  one  cannot  sit  still  and  nurse  either  his 
griefs  or  his  hopes;  that  man  is  so  constituted  that  he 
must  display  activity  in  some  form.  But  I  never  fully 
realized  that  man  is  chronically  happy.  And  yet  it 
must  be  so,  for  how  otherwise  could  he  come  out  from 
prisons  rotund  and  well-nourished,  or  from  dark  filthy 
tenements  with  a  smile  on  his  face?  How  else  could  we 
be  so  pleasure-seeking  and  pleasure-displaying  as  we 
were  in  those  agonal  days  of  the  war? 

The  war  put  many  things  out  of  joint,  but  it  did  not 


SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  175 

divorce  man  from  felicity  save  in  individual  instances 
or  for  short  periods  of  time.  The  thing  that  the  war 
dislocated  most  was  further  tolerance  of  the  paradoxes 
of  the  Christian  religion,  the  irreconcilability  between 
preached  and  practised  Christianity.  Every  one  ad- 
mits that  the  fundamental  principles  of  Christianity 
are  perfect  and  beautiful — that  is,  they  are  as  perfect 
and  as  beautiful  as  the  finite  mind  can  grasp.  But 
nothing  can  be  more  imperfect  and  uglier  than  the 
way  in  which  the  professional  pietist  practises  it. 
There  isn't  a  tenet,  as  formulated  by  its  Founder,  or 
such  perfect  disciples  as  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  to  which 
the  professing  or  professional  Christian  conforms  even 
approximately;  and  because  his  fellow  man,  prosti- 
tuting it  in  some  similar  way  to  conform  with  his  per- 
sonal bias,  does  not  agree  with  him,  he  proceeds  to 
point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  him  and  to  hail  him  as 
infidel  and  unbeliever. 

I  have  no  intention  of  prophesying  whether  the 
church  will  weather  the  storm  in  which  it  is  now 
floundering  or  not.  I  think  very  likely  it  will.  One 
reason  for  so  thinking  is  that  it  has  weathered  all 
previous  storms;  one  of  them  five  hundred  years  ago 
was  of  severity  that  will  never  be  forgotten.  Since 
then  education  and  enlightenment  have  lifted  man 
from  the  supine  obedience  and  resignation  of  the  do- 
mestic animal,  and  he  has  demanded,  and  in  a  measure 
obtained,  his  worldly  rights.  This  encourages  me  to 
believe  that  he  may  soon  demand  his  spiritual  rights: 
liberation  from  the  tyranny  imposed  upon  his  mind  by 
the  Junkers  of  the  church,  freedom  to  look  upon  God 
as  the  fountainhead  of  wisdom,  mercy,  and  love 
who  mediates  succor  to  the  poor,  the  mourning,  and  the 


176  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

meek  more  willingly  than  to  the  rich,  the  joyous,  and 
the  arrogant;  liberty  to  live  according  to  the  man- 
dates of  Christ  and  to  die  in  confidence  that  his  pledges 
will  be  redeemed.  Another  reason  is  that  man  must 
have  a  religion.  Individual  man  can  five  without  it, 
but  collective  man  cannot,  and  there  is  not  the  slightest 
sign  of  the  second  coming  of  Christ.  Religion  was 
never  so  openly  repudiated  as  during  the  Great  War,  and 
it  never  wielded  as  little  influence  on  the  determinations 
of  man's  conduct  as  it  does  to-day.  Those  who  con- 
vince themselves  otherwise  make  themselves  immune 
to  the  teachings  of  experience. 

The  paucity  of  men  who  have  the  capacity  for  con- 
structive statesmanship  is  pitiable,  but  how  trifling 
is  such  a  capacity  compared  with  that  required  to 
formulate  the  tenets  of  a  livable  new  religion !  The 
practices  of  the  church  to-day  are  not  those  of  the 
thirteenth,  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  when 
it  was  steeped  in  every  conceivable  kind  of  depravity, 
licentiousness,  simony,  wealth,  power,  arrogance,  ava- 
rice, and  flattery;  when  it  betrayed  its  mission  to 
protect  the  weak;  when  it  fornicated  with  the  princes 
of  the  world;  when  it  crucified  Jesus  in  the  name  of 
egoism.  But  in  what  way  has  it  espoused  the  sacred 
cause  of  the  lowly,  the  best-beloved  of  Him  who  died 
that  eternal  happiness  might  be  vouchsafed  us?  If 
Christ's  vicar  could  remain  silent  without  being  called 
to  account  as  was  the  case  a  few  years  ago  when  we 
were  offering  our  fathers  on  the  sacrificial  altar  for  the 
liberation  from  slavery  of  God's  ebony  image,  it  is 
not  likely  that  he  will  bewailed  on  to  explain  a  similar 
silence  during  the  Great  War.  I  do  not  profess  to 
say,  nor  even  to  know,  the  attitude  of  ..the  hierarchy 


SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  177 

which  governed  the  Roman  Catholic  church  toward 
the  war.  If  it  was  Germanophile  or  Austrophile,  it 
was  more  wicked  than  the  harlot  of  Babylon.  I  should 
say  the  same  had  it  been  Anglophile  or  Francophile. 
The  man  who  can  believe  that  the  temporal  head 
of  the  church  is  the  infallible  spiritual  guide  of  her  ad- 
herents cannot  believe  that  it  should  take  sides  against 
any  of  her  own  people.  "The  house  divided  against 
itself  must  fall."  What  I  should  like  from  the  church 
is  a  definition  of  her  attitude  toward  war.  She  teaches 
her  children  what  their  conduct  should  be  about  in- 
dulging their  genesic  extent,  about  the  property  and 
person  of  their  fellow  men,  about  intemperance  of 
language  and  of  appetite.  Why  not  about  war? 
What  troubles  me  with  the  church  is  not  so  much 
the  determination  to  keep  her  children  in  igno- 
rance, nor  that  she  has  her  back  to  the  door  which 
opens  upon  a  vista  of  the  world's  progress  and  advance, 
hoping  that  she  may  keep  it  closed  in  the  face  of  the 
divine  forces  of  evolutionary  progress  which  are  seeking 
to  push  it  open.  That  might  be  tolerated,  but  not  her 
arrogation  of  self-sufficiency,  her  assumption  of  self- 
sacisf action,  her  boasted  immutability,  her  sancti- 
monious semblance  of  resignation,  her  mumblings  of 
archaic  sayings  in  a  language  that  neither  its  votaries 
nor  one-half  its  priests  understand,  her  profession 
to  protect  the  weak  and  aid  the  poor  while  at  the  same 
time  she  bends  the  knee  to  the  rich  and  traffics  with 
emperors. 

Though  I  lived  nearly  two  years  in  the  city  where 
the  church's  mediaeval  gorgeousness  is  more  striking 
than  in  any  other  city  of  the  world,  and  where  its  chief 
stronghold  is,  it  was  rarely  that  its  practices  or  its 


178  IDLING   IN   ITALY 

preachings  disturbed  my  spiritual  equanimity,  my 
belief  in  God,  or  my  fathomless  faith.  Nearly  every 
day  my  duties  took  me  through  the  Piazza  of  St. 
Peter  and  along  the  Vatican  Gardens,  and  my  thought 
was  more  often  of  his  mediaeval  predecessors  than  of  the 
voluntary  "prisoner"  who,  while  occupying  the  sump- 
tuous palace,  eats  out  his  heart  because  he  is  not  al- 
lowed to  be  a  temporal  sovereign — in  other  words,  to 
be  the  antithesis  of  Him  whose  vicar  he  claims  to  be. 

One  morning,  after  I  read  the  communiques  and  had 
that  glow  of  satisfaction  in  the  accomplishments  of 
my  fellow  men,  that  feeling  of  pride  which  every  ally 
had  during  the  last  weeks  of  the  war,  I  turned  the  paper 
and  saw  the  arresting  headline,  "Translation  of  the 
Bones  of  St.  Petronius,"  and  I  read: 

"This  morning  at  eight  o'clock  the  Holy  Father, 
accompanied  by  the  pontifical  court,  repaired  to  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  where  were  gathered  the  residents  of 
Bologna  who  had  come  to  Rome  for  the  occasion. 
The  pope,  clad  in  sacred  vestments,  celebrated  the 
mass  and  gave  communion  to  those  present.  After 
the  mass  Cardinal  Gusmimi,  Archbishop  of  Bologna, 
gave  a  brief  discourse,  while  the  pope  sat  on  the  throne. 
The  pope  then  responded,  recalling  the  religious  glory  of 
Bologna  and  the  life  of  the  sainted  Bishop  Petronius. 
He  then  covered  himself  with  other  sacred  vestments 
appropriate  for  the  occasion  and  assisted  the  arch- 
bishop of  Bologna  in  taking  from  the  provisory  urn 
the  bones  of  that  saintly  man  who  had  yielded  this 
life  for  a  place  in  the  heavenly  hierarchy  many  years 
ago,  and  placed  them  in  the  urn  offered  by  the  Bolo- 
gnese;  having  done  this,  he  placed  the  urn  on  the  altar. 
The  ceremony  lasted  upward  of  two  hours." 

In  my  fancy  I  saw  a  lot  of  able-bodied  men  thus 
engaged   while   those   whose  spiritual   destinies   they 


SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  179 

had  elected  to  shape  were  being  slaughtered  on  battle- 
fields, struggling  with  wounds  and  disease  in  hospitals, 
contending  with  cold,  thirst,  hunger,  and  indescribable 
discomfort.  What  was  the  purpose  of  it,  what  benefit 
did  it  mediate,  what  enlightenment  flowed  from  it? 
If  Petronius  was  a  good  man,  if  he  loved  his  fellow 
men,  and  if  he  did  all  that  was  within  his  power  to  do 
to  make  them  better  men,  more  capacious  for  a  full  life 
here  and  more  worthy  of  eternal  life,  why  should  they 
not  allow  him  to  enjoy  his  reward  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Lord?  How  can  they  enhance  his  happiness,  what 
does  mankind  gain  by  taking  the  semblance  of  that 
which  once  formed  a  framework  for  his  spirit  and 
transferring  it  from  one  vessel  to  another  while  mum- 
bling or  chanting  over  it?  What  deep  symbolism 
attaches  itself  to  this  attempt  to  stay  nature  in  gather- 
ing the  ashes  of  Petronius  to  their  ultimate  destiny? 
Would  not  these  men  give  a  better  account  of  their 
stewardship  to  their  Master  were  they  to  devote  their 
time  and  their  strength  and  their  minds  to  the  better- 
ment of  the  physical  and  spiritual  lot  of  those  poor, 
desolate,  forsaken  unfortunates  with  whom  I  spent 
the  afternoon — a  trainload  of  men  who  had  been  im- 
prisoned in  an  enemy  country  and  who  were  returning 
to  Italy  to  die  of  the  dreadful  disease  that  had  been 
thrust  upon  them  by  those  insatiate  monsters  of 
cruelty,  the  Austrians  ? 

I  have  rarely  spent  two  hours  more  steeped  in 
misery  than  I  did  that  afternoon  at  Forte  Tiburtino, 
where  I  went  to  visit  the  enormous  hospital  constructed 
around  that  old  fort.  It  was  intended  to  be  used  for 
temporary  concentration  of  the  sick  and  wounded 
soldiers  sent  from  the  front,  until  their  disorders  and 


180  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

diseases  could  be  interpreted  sufficiently  to  indicate 
where  they  should  be  sent  for  most  speedy  restoration 
to  health.  The  protracted  inactivity  on  the  battle- 
fronts  of  Italy  had  allowed  the  hospital  to  remain  for 
many  months  unutilized.  When  Austria  decided  to 
send  back  to  Italy  a  number  of  the  men  captured  in  the 
Caporetto  disaster,  upon  whom  she  had  thrust  tuber- 
culosis through  starvation  and  every  conceivable  dep- 
rivation, it  was  decided  to  use  this  hospital  for  their 
shelter  until  they  should  die  or  be  sufficiently  nurtured 
to  be  sent  to  parts  of  the  country  whose  climate  is 
favorable  to  recovery  from  that  disease.  Two  or  three 
times  a  week  a  trainload  of  two  hundred  or  more  of 
these  pitiful  creatures  arrived,  many  of  them  in  a 
dying  state.  As  a  rule,  they  had  been  en  route  for  a 
week,  and,  though  the  Swiss  Red  Cross  and  the  Italian 
Red  Cross  both  attempted  to  make  some  provision 
that  would  contribute  to  their  comfort,  very  little 
evidence  of  their  efforts  was  to  be  seen. 

Forte  Tiburtino  is  three  miles  beyond  Rome  on  the 
road  to  Tivoli.  The  train  is  switched  at  the  Portonaccio 
station  to  the  rails  of  the  tramway  and  goes  directly 
to  the  gates  of  the  hospital.  It  was  the  first  day 
of  autumn,  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale,  whereby  the 
unfortunates  arrived  in  a  cloud  of  dust  which  must 
have  added  to  their  suffering.  But  that  was  as  nothing, 
I  fancy,  compared  with  the  pain  and  ignominy  put 
upon  them  by  the  antics  of  one  of  my  countrywomen 
clad  in  the  uniform  of  an  American  relief  organization, 
an  affable  Amazon  who,  approaching  her  physiological 
Rubicon,  had  begun  to  display  somatically  and  emo- 
tionally the  results  of  disturbance  and  inadequacy  of 
those  wondrous  internal  secretions  that  give  elasticity 


SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  181 

to  the  skin,  lustre  to  the  hair,  sparkle  to  the  eye,  and 
appearance  of  health  to  the  tout  ensemble.  She  but 
heightened  her  painful  plainness  by  a  stereotyped 
smile  which,  while  displaying  a  row  of  long  teeth,  set 
at  an  obtuse  angle,  accentuated  the  aquilinity  of  her 
nose  and  the  prognathousness  of  her  jaw.  Every- 
where I  looked  she  was  there.  Every  place  I  went  I 
heard  her:  "Bentornato,"  "Benvenuto,"  "Aspetti  un 
momento,  fard  la  sua  fotografia."  The  ways  of  the 
Lord  are  obscure.  Otherwise  one  could  explain  why 
he  did  not  let  these  poor  devils  die  without  having 
thrust  upon  them  this  presence,  voice,  and  affected 
cheer.  I  saw  them,  weak  and  prostrated  as  they 
were,  shrink  from  her  as  one  might  shrink  from  a  fam- 
ished alligator. 

They  opened  the  side  doors  of  the  cars  and  put  steps 
against  them;  the  white-clad  orderlies  came  down 
first,  and  then  began  the  procession  of  the  weak,  the 
emaciated,  the  forlorn,  the  desolate.  Some  were  able 
to  descend  unaided,  others  had  to  be  helped,  one  on 
either  side,  and  still  others  dropped  inert  and  corpse- 
like, across  the  strong  back  of  an  orderly  who  carried 
them  the  few  feet  to  a  stretcher.  Now  and  then  one 
would  step  out  with  an  air  of  attempted  jauntiness  and 
a  feeble  smile,  but  for  the  most  part  it  was  a  proces- 
sion of  those  who  had  lost  hope,  who  had  abandoned 
faith  in  every  one  and  everything,  and  who  read  over 
the  portal,  "Lasciaie  ogni  speranza  voi  cWentrate."  It 
is  some  such  procession  that  Dante  must  have  encoun- 
tered frequently  in  his  passage  through  the  infernal 
regions.  "Nulla  speranza  gli  comforta  mat  noncM  di 
posa,  ma  di  minor  pena"  Not  only  did  their  faces 
reveal  absolute  despair  but  their  bodies  were  reduced 


182  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

to  such  a  state  of  emaciation  that  they  were  scarcely 
recognizable  as  human  beings.  Major  Pohlmanti  after- 
ward told  me  that  the  majority  of  them  had  lost  up- 
ward of  forty  per  cent  in  weight,  some  of  them,  indeed, 
as  much  as  sixty  per  cent.  Many  of  them  were  so 
scantily  clad  that  their  chests  and  legs  and  arms  were 
bare.  Some  were  without  socks,  and  their  bony  feet, 
thrust  into  cloth  shoes  with  wooden  soles,  gave  the 
finishing  touch  to  what  seemed  to  be  animated  skel- 
etons covered  with  dirty  brown  paper  which  had  been 
soaked  in  putrid  oil.  After  those  who  were  able  to 
get  on  their  feet  had  passed  out  came  those  who  were 
practically  in  the  throes  of  death,  and  those  whose 
minds  had  been  dethroned  by  suffering  and  privation. 
One  was  able  to  keep  the  sob  in  his  throat  until  they 
appeared,  and  then  the  effort  to  suppress  it  was  im- 
potent.   Indeed, 

They  had  a  rendezvous  with  death 

When  Spring  brings  back  blue  days  and  fair, 

and  they  are  reconciled  that  he  shall  take  their  hands 
and  lead  them  into  his  dark  land,  as  Alan  Seeger  said 
in  those  precious  lines  which  will  ornament  his  memory 
for  many  a  day. 

The  procession  slowly  wound  its  way  within  the 
gates,  and  I  supposed  that  they  would  be  conducted 
and  helped  lovingly  and  tenderly  to  the  pavilions 
ready  to  receive  them;  that  they  would  be  undressed 
and  given  hot,  stimulating  nourishment  by  nurses  and 
orderlies  recruited,  perhaps,  from  those  who  had  come 
before  and  whom  nature  had  been  kind  enough  par- 
tially to  restore.  But  immediately  they  were  con- 
fronted with  a  species  of  Italian  bureaucracy  which 


SAINTS  AND  SINNERS  183 

hindered  their  progress  toward  this  haven  of  rest  and 
of  solace  toward  which  they  had  been  looking  forward 
for  many  days,  perhaps  months.  They  were  segre- 
gated in  a  large,  barnlike  structure  a  few  yards  within 
the  gate,  permitted  to  sit  on  rude,  unbacked,  uncom- 
fortable benches,  and  compelled  to  await  their  turn 
until  their  names  and  their  histories  and  an  enumera- 
tion of  their  possessions  could  be  recorded.  I  felt 
that  God  would  have  been  kind  if  he  had  stamped 
across  their  brows  the  letter  V  to  stand  for  virtue 
and  valor,  as  he  stamped  the  letter  A  upon  the  breast 
of  Arthur  Dimmesdale  to  testify  to  the  people  of  New 
England  the  frailty  of  that  Puritan  parson,  which  was 
revealed  to  his  parishioners  when  they  gathered  to- 
gether to  listen  to  the  confession  of  his  sins  and  to 
decide  his  punishment.  There  they  sat,  inanimate, 
inert,  resigned,  awaiting  what  the  Italian  Govern- 
ment might  have  in  store  for  them  with  the  same  in- 
difference as  they  awaited  that  which  nature  had  in 
store  for  them. 

Never  again  shall  I  believe  that  the  victim  of  tuber- 
culosis is  optimistic  and  hopeful.  It  may  be  that  their 
obvious  and  striking  forlornness  was  the  expression  of 
starvation  and  not  of  disease.  Only  about  thirty  per 
cent  of  them,  I  am  told,  showed  signs  of  active  tuber- 
culosis after  the  ravages  of  inadequate  and  unsuitable 
food  have  been  overcome.  I  saw  and  talked  with  many 
of  their  predecessors,  and  especially  those  who  had 
been  there  a  number  of  weeks,  sufficiently  long  for 
them  to  have  gained  in  weight  and  in  strength,  but 
even  they  were  still  branded  with  that  expression 
which  hopelessness  comes  nearest  to  describing. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  these  were  the  men 


184  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

who  sat  down  on  the  sides  of  the  road  and  in  the  fields 
before  that  great  disaster  in  the  Friuli  and  were  re- 
signed to  being  taken  captive,  and  that  the  resignation 
which  they  then  displayed  had  been  stamped  on  them 
gradually  day  after  day  since  then,  until  now  it  had 
become  indelible.  Life  had  had  no  joy  or  poetry  for 
them.  Neither  the  present  nor  the  future  had  been 
tinctured  with  pleasure  nor  flavored  with  hope,  and 
since  that  day  they  had  been  silently  awaiting  that 
which  now  seemed  imminent — translation. 

I  could  not  but  contrast  the  event  of  the  morning 
with  that  of  the  evening.  Probably  every  one  of 
these  boys  and  men  had  been  brought  up  in  the  faith 
which  the  Holy  Father  claims  is  the  only  true  one. 
They  had  been  taught  that  God  is  Justice.  They  had 
been  imbued  since  earliest  infancy  with  the  belief  that, 
next  to  loyalty  to  God,  their  most  sacred  duty  was  to 
their  country.  In  their  own  way  they  had  done  their 
best  for  both,  and  this  was  their  reward.  Their  ex- 
pressions of  despair,  their  manifestations  of  hopeless- 
ness, their  silent  portrayal  of  their  abandonment  needed 
no  explanation.  The  saint  in  the  Vatican  was  having 
his  reward  on  earth,  and  the  sinners  in  Forte  Tiburtino 
looked  for  theirs  only  in  heaven. 

"Ahi  giustizia  di  Dio !    tante  chi  stipa 
Nuove  travaglie  e  pene,  quanto  io  viddi? 
E  perch  e  nostra  colpa  si  ne  scipa  ?  " 

"Ah,  Justice  Divine!   who  shall  tell  in  few  the 
Many  fresh  pains  and  travails  that  I  saw? 
And  why  does  guilt  of  ours  thus  waste  us?" 


CHAPTER  XI 

WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S:    THEY  RISE  OR  SINK 
TOGETHER  .  .  . 

"But  I  would  have  you  know  that  the  head  of  every  man  is  Christ: 
and  the  head  of  the  woman  is  the  man;  and  the  head  of  Christ  is  God 
.  .  .  but  the  woman  is  the  glory  of  the  man.  For  the  man  is  not  of 
the  woman  but  the  woman  of  the  man.  Neither  was  the  man  created 
for  the  woman;  but  the  woman  for  the  man." 

Woman's  position  in  the  world,  socially,  politically, 
and  economically  was  profoundly  altered  by  the  Great 
War.  Every  contact  with  the  affairs  of  the  world, 
save  uxorially,  was  changed  and  I  believe  that  one  of 
the  aftermaths  of  the  war  will  be  further  to  change 
that  relationship,  to  extend  her  liberty,  to  enhance  her 
privileges  until  every  semblance  of  the  cage  that  has 
confined  her  since  time  immemorial  is  destroyed. 

Eye-witnesses  of  the  political  and  social  emancipa- 
tion of  women  do  not  realize  how  extensively  concerned 
with  it  the  historian  of  the  future  will  be.  Even  less 
do  they  realize  how  directly  certain  social  and  eco- 
nomic changes  of  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century 
will  be  traced  to  the  entrance  of  women  into  the  po- 
litical arena.  The  individual  who  would  attempt  to 
forecast  the  eventual  effects  of  national  prohibition 
upon  a  people  would  have  no  respect  whatsoever  for 
his  reputation  as  a  prophet.  I  assume  there  is  little 
doubt  that  women  initiated  and  in  large  measure 
accomplished  that  legislation.  Small  wonder  they 
did.    They  had  to  bear  the  brunt  and  the  pernicious 

185 


186  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

effects  of  alcohol  consumption.  Man  drank  it,  but 
women  paid;  paid  in  privation,  in  suffering,  in  disease, 
in  ignominy — they  and  their  children.  There  are  many 
habits,  conventions,  laws  that  deal  with  women  differ- 
ently than  they  do  with  men.  We  may  confidently 
anticipate  that  woman  in  full  possession  of  political 
privileges  will  soon  turn  her  attention  to  legislation 
whose  purpose  will  be  to  change  this,  to  effect  a  like 
relationship  of  all  human  beings  but  especially  of  men 
and  women. 

The  most  ardent  and  pious  Christian  must  admit 
that  the  practice  of  its  principles  is  inimical  to  woman's 
welfare  or  woman's  full  development,  using  the  terms 
welfare  and  development  in  the  conventional  sense  of 
to-day.  There  are  undoubtedly  many  intelligent, 
honest,  serious  women  who  subscribe  to  St.  Paul's 
teachings  of  woman's  duties  and  privileges  and  who 
take  no  umbrage  at  his  pronouncements.  These  were 
in  a  word  that  she  should  be  man's  aid,  his  servant, 
and  his  ornament;  that  she  should  minister  unto  his 
corporeal  needs,  and  that  she  should  be  the  instru- 
ment through  which  God  permitted  man  to  reproduce 
his  image  and  perpetuate  mankind.  The  Christian 
religion  came^gradually  to  be  considered  figurative  in 
its  practicability,  an  ethical  system  strict  conforma- 
tion to  which  would  cause  the  individual  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  victim  of  mental  aberration,  but  ideally 
quite  perfect.  With  this  conception  the  restrictions 
put  upon  woman's  activity  gradually  began  to  dis- 
appear, and  those  that  remained,  such  as,  for  instance, 
being  obliged  to  cover  her  head  in  church,  were  not 
only  willingly  accepted  but  were  considered  a  pre- 
rogative in  so  far  as  they  facilitated  personal  adorn-. 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  187 

ment  and  thus  contributed  to  the  realization  of  a  fun- 
damental, inherent  ambition — to  be  attractive. 

Opponents  of  feminism  have  busied  themselves  with 
extraordinary  industry  and  tireless  assiduity  to  point 
out  the  differences  between  man  and  woman,  always 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  latter.  Their  mental  en- 
dowment is  inferior  to  man;  their  physical  strength  is 
less;  their  moral  caliber  more  attenuated;  their  emo- 
tional nature  shallower.  Why  should  any  one  take 
the  trouble  to  deny  any  of  these?  He  who  maintains 
that  every  specimen  of  the  human  species  endowed 
with  average  reasoning  power  should  live  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  freedom  and  liberty  should  not  allow  himself 
the  trouble  of  denying  them.  He  should  admit  it 
with  the  same  readiness  that  he  admits  that  there  are 
anatomical  and  physical  differences  between  the  sexes. 
But  the  opponents  of  " rights  of  women,"  to  use  the 
phrase  that  has  now  come  to  have  a  sinister  meaning, 
are  not  satisfied  with  such  admission.  They  want  to 
have  us  admit  that,  in  so  far  as  these  qualities  are  at 
variance  with  those  of  man,  so  in  proportion  is  woman 
inferior.  This  no  well-balanced,  thoughtful,  unpreju- 
diced man  who  has  had  much  to  do  with  men  and 
women  for  a  sufficient  period  to  entitle  him  to  pass 
judgment  upon  the  matter  can  possibly  admit.  One 
may  say  dogmatically  that  woman  has  not  the  poten- 
tial or  actual  capacity  of  man  in  the  field  of  politics 
and  statecraft,  in  the  field  of  art  and  literature,  in  the 
field  of  science  and  investigation,  in  the  field  of  peace 
and  strife.  He  may  say  it,  but  he  can  furnish  very 
little  substantiation  of  his  statement.  Neither  will  he 
be  able  to  say  it  convincingly  very  much  longer.  It  is 
not  and  will  not  be  fair  or  just  that  any  one  should 


188  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

make  ex  cathedra  statements  upon  such  subjects  until 
women  have  had  the  same  freedom  in  fields  of  activity 
that  men  have  had  for  countless  centuries.  No  weight 
or  credence  need  be  given  to  statements  that  women 
are  possessed  of  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  that 
militate  against  their  fitness  to  occupy  or  adorn  the 
important  positions  of  life's  constructive  activities. 
Possessions  or  infirmities  which  many  of  their  ill- 
wishers  maintain  unfit  them  for  such  places  may  dis- 
appear when  they  have  had  opportunity  to  indulge 
their  freedom.  These  alleged  infirmities  may  be 
merely  reactionary  to  the  restrictions  of  their  environ- 
ments since  time  immemorial,  since  it  is  notorious 
that  the  place  often  develops  the  man.  No  bird  can 
tell  how  far  it  can  fly  until  it  tries  its  wings. 

The  American  people  are  less  astonished  than  any 
other  nation  to  find  that  women  have  invaded  every 
field  of  human  activity  save  that  of  active  warfare. 
They  have  long  since  thrown  down  the  barriers  that 
kept  women  from  entering  such  fields  of  activity,  and 
welcomed  their  entrance  into  them.  They  were  en- 
couraged to  believe  that  they  would  give  an  earnest  of 
their  activities  and  they  have  accomplished  it  without 
loss  of  their  sex  attractiveness.  The  matter,  however, 
is  quite  different  in  the  countries  of  Europe.  There 
only  the  women  of  the  lower  classes  have  earned  their 
bread  in  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  and  particularly  in 
the  fields,  in  the  mills,  and  in  the  shops.  But  to-day 
all  that  is  changed.  They  drive  tram-cars,  load  and 
unload  ships,  they  till  the  soil  and  work  the  mines, 
they  make  and  deliver  munitions;  they  have  replaced 
the  porter  and  the  ticket-taker  at  the  stations;  they 
are  the  letter-carriers,  cab-drivers,  guardians  of  the 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  189 

peace;  they  direct  and  administer  great  mercantile 
houses;  and  they  are  forcing  their  way  into  every 
profession.  They  have  not  yet  been  in  any  of  these 
activities  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to  enable  any  one 
to  say  whether  or  not  they  can  successfully  compete 
with  man.  The  prophets  of  old  were  stoned,  and  he 
would  be  a  daring  one  who  would  venture  the  state- 
ment that  man  will  successfully  dislodge  woman  from 
all  the  positions  she  so  satisfactorily  filled  during 
the  war.  In  some  countries  she  will  have  gained, 
before  the  end  of  the  great  social  and  economic  ad- 
justment which  we  are  now  attempting,  the  political 
privileges  which  more  than  anything  else  will  put  her 
on  an  equality  with  man,  namely,  the  franchise.  From 
such  vantage-point  she  will  most  successfully  hold 
what  she  has  gained.  It  is  too 'much  to  expect  that 
woman  will  emancipate  herself  and  come  into  the  arena 
of  man's  activities  with  her  handicaps  and  lack  of 
training  and  not  make  mistakes  prejudicial  to  her  wel- 
fare. To  expect  it  would  be  as  illegitimate  as  to  expect 
that  a  strong  man  who  had  never  trained  for  a  prize 
fight  could  enter  the  ring  and  successfully  contend 
against  a  man  equally  strong  or  stronger  who  had  been 
training  for  the  contest  for  a  long  time. 

No  one  was  so  fatuous  as  to  believe  in  1914  that  the 
Central  Powers,  after  having  devoted  a  quarter  of  a 
century  to  the  most  assiduous  training  and  preparation 
for  the  war  that  they  thrust  upon  the  civilized  world, 
would  not  jeopardize  the  liberty  of  the  world.  The 
Allied  nations  had  been  content  apparently  to  risk 
their  fate  without  such  preparation  merely  because 
they  had  right  on  their  side.  They  made  many  mis- 
takes and  some  of  them  were  so  flagrant  and  enormous 


190  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

as  nearly  to  have  cost  them  their  existence.  Women 
likewise  have  right  on  their  side  in  the  struggle  which 
they  have  waged  against  the  mandates  of  Christianity 
and  the  usurpation  of  man.  But  right  alone  is  not 
sufficient  in  such  a  contest.  They  must  combine  might 
with  it  and  might  these  days  spells  organization. 
Without  it  nothing  worth  while  can  be  accomplished. 
I  venture  to  prophesy  that  the  striking  legislation  of 
our  country  of  the  next  generation  will  be  accomplished 
largely  by  the  influence  of  organized  women.  This 
war  has  given  them  opportunity  to  display  their  might 
and  examples  of  what  organization  can  accomplish. 
Unless  I  misconstrue  all  signs,  they  will  never  again 
be  deprived  of  the  privileges  which  they  have  at  the 
present  day.  On  the  contrary,  such  privileges  will 
become  larger  and  more  comprehensive  until  they 
are  upon  an  absolute  equality  in  every  walk  of  life 
with  man. 

In  the  world  of  politics,  society,  economics,  educa- 
tion, and  religion  the  question  of  rights  of  woman  may 
not  be  given  the  constructive  attention  to  which  it  is 
entitled.  In  our  country  it  is  possible  that  women  are 
sufficiently  organized  to  present  their  claims  and  insist 
upon  their  being  heard,  and  not  only  demand  their 
rights,  which  are  liberty  and  equality,  but  they  will 
get  them.  In  England  I  am  not  so  confident  of  the 
result.  In  France  and  Italy  I  am  still  less  confident; 
in  fact,  their  cause  in  these  countries  as  things  are 
at  present  seems  to  me  almost  a  hopeless  struggle. 
The  only  thing  that  consoles  me  is  history.  When 
one  recalls  that  all  that  which  we  now  speak  of  as 
democracy  flowed  from  one  master  mind  in  Crom- 
well's little  army;    that  the  Laocoon  hold  which  the 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  191 

church  had  upon  the  people  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
broken  by  Luther  and  a  few  similar  masters  whose 
spirits  successfully  carried  the  idea  of  liberty;  that 
all  that  which  is  now  spoken  of  as  industrial  ascen- 
dancy flowed  from  the  activities  of  one  or  two  super- 
men in  the  mill  districts  of  northern  England  only 
three  or  four  generations  ago;  then  one  is  lifted  above 
his  depression.  Liberty  and  tolerance  have  taken  on 
a  new  significance.  This  is  not  due  entirely  to  the 
war.  The  war  minted  the  meanings,  but  the  gold  was 
ready  for  the  stamp.  Liberty  has  come  to  mean  that 
woman  and  man  are  not  only  equal  before  God  but 
that  they  are  equal  before  man.  And,  now  that  this 
admission  has  been  wrung  from  unwilling  man  and 
imposed  upon  governments  one  after  the  other,  what 
kind  of  a  life  do  we  wish?  What  are  our  visions? 
What  are  our  sane  and  legitimate  aspirations?  Are 
we  willing  to  yield  supinely  to  the  tyranny  of  state  or 
of  money?  Are  we  content  further  to  tolerate  the 
infirmities  and  impotency  of  present-day  education? 
Shall  we  continue  to  close  our  eyes  to  the  hypocrisies 
of  the  church?  Shall  we  be  willing  to  submit  to  the 
restrictions  that  are  put  upon  us  by  law  and  covenant 
concerning  marriage  and  its  entailments?  Shall  we 
bow  down  to  autocratic  governments  whose  rulers 
claim,  and  apparently  have  their  claims  allowed,  to 
have  divine  guidance?  Shall  we  be  content  with  the 
concentration  of  property  or  of  private  capitalistic  en- 
terprise? Shall  we  be  callous  enough  to  see  countless 
thousands  of  God's  own,  the  poor,  deprived  of  the 
advantages  of  food  and  clothing,  education  and  the 
gifts  of  hygiene — in  brief,  of  everything  that  makes 
life  worth  living?    I  firmly  believe  that  the  rank  and 


192  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

file  of  educated,  thinking,  serious-minded  persons  who 
are  not  immediately  concerned  with  the  possession  or 
administration  of  any  of  these,  will  not  tolerate  them, 
and  in  so  expressing  my  belief  I  do  not  feel  that  I 
label  myself  socialist.  I  feel  that  I  enroll  myself  in 
the  legion  marching  forward  under  the  banner  of 
liberty  and  the  belief  that  enlightenment  is  followed 
by  progress  as  unerringly  as  night  is  followed  by  day. 

These  things  may  be  brought  about  by  revolution, 
just  as  democracy  was  brought  about  in  France  after 
the  teachings  of  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  the  French 
encyclopaedists  had  blazed  the  way  and  the  aftermath 
of  the  American  Revolution  had  reached  that  country; 
but  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  one  of  the  things  that 
the  World  War  will  accomplish  is  that  this  social  ref- 
ormation and  reconstruction  will  be  brought  about 
without  violence  and  without  revolution.  Once  a  sat- 
isfactory integration  of  a  large  number  of  individual 
fives  is  brought  about,  then  integration  of  the  com- 
munity and  of  the  state  is  bound  to  follow.  No  one 
is  so  fatuous  or  so  blind  as  to  hope  that  integration 
of  individual  life  can  come  to  him  whose  creative  im- 
pulses in  any  field  are  hampered  or  stultified,  but  when 
these  creative  impulses,  whatever  they  be,  are  en- 
couraged, nurtured,  developed,  facilitated,  then  the 
genus  homo  will  reach  its  full  estate  and  we  may  con- 
fidently look  forward  to  community  and  state  inte- 
gration upon  which  lasting  reform  can  be  carried  out 
socially  and  politically.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
advantage  to  be  gained  by  what  is  called  political  and 
economic  reform  unless  at  the  same  time  there  is  a 
reformation  of  the  creative  forces  of  life — education, 
sex  relations,  and  religion. 

Any  scheme  of  life  that  concerns  itself  only  with  life 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  193 

is  bound  to  be  a  failure.  Man  is  so  constituted  that  he 
must  have  a  philosophy  from  which  he  can  form  a  creed 
that  facilitates  his  craving  for  immortality.  It  is  this 
belief  in  immortality,  as  fundamental  a  demand  as  life 
itself,  which  is  the  final  conditioning  impulse  of  all  that 
is  best  in  man  and  which  gives  him  an  inexhaustible 
strength  and  a  lasting  peace. 

How  any  intelligent  person  can  believe  that  the 
teachings  of  Christ  as  practised  to-day,  and  I  emphasize 
the  word  "practised,"  furnish  such  a  philosophy  or  a 
system  of  ethics,  transcends  my  understanding.  The 
chief  branch  of  the  Christian  religion  stands  for  dogma 
to-day  just  as  firmly  as  it  did  before  the  Renaissance, 
and  it  pretends  the  humility  of  Christ  while  maintaining 
the  imperiousness  of  Caesar.  There  is  scarcely  a  min- 
ister of  the  Protestant  church  who  is  not  selling  his 
birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage  by  not  daring  to  get 
up  in  his  pulpit  and  tell  his  flock  that  they  must  live 
up  to  the  basic  principles  of  Christ's  teachings.  These 
ministers  are  just  as  cognizant  as  I  am  that  their 
branch  of  the  Christian  church  has  lost  its  hold  upon 
the  people  except  in  so  far  as  its  alleged  teachings  are 
reconcilable  with  their  pleasurable  conduct  in  private 
and  in  public  affairs.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there 
are  not  many  wholly  sincere  and  devout  believers  in 
these  churches  who  feel  the  inspiration  of  the  teachings 
of  Christ.  But  because  they  are  paid  workers  in  the 
vineyard  of  the  Lord  they  dare  not  jeopardize  their 
existence  and  take  no  heed  for  the  morrow,  and  they 
dare  not  insist  that  those  to  whom  they  minister  should 
conform  their  conduct  to  Christ's  commandments,  be- 
cause it  would  hazard  their  very  existence  and  pro- 
voke the  starvation  of  their  children. 

Do  the  meek  inherit  the  earth  ?    Have  they  inherited 


\ 


194  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

it?  Does  any  one  rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad  when 
men  revile  him  and  persecute  him  and  say  all  manner 
of  evil  against  him  falsely  ?  Is  there  any  clergyman  to- 
day who  is  teaching  and  insisting  that  if  any  one  shall 
break  any  one  of  these  least  commandments  and  shall 
teach  men  to  do  so  he  shall  be  called  the  least  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  ?  Suppose  we  grant  that  the  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount  is  not  to  be  taken  literally,  but 
symbolically,  of  what  are  these  mandates  symbolical? 
"If  thy  right  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out  and  cast  it 
from  thee.  If  thy  right  hand  offend  thee,  cut  it 
off  and  cast  it  from  thee."  Why  does  one  not  give 
the  same  heed  to  these  commands  as  he  does  to  "Thou 
shalt  not  kill;  thou  shall  not  commit  adultery"? 
The  reason  is  that  he  who  kills  or  commits  adultery  is 
liable  to  be  punished  by  the  law,  and  he  is  deterred  by 
the  fear  of  such  punishment  or  of  the  social  ostracism 
to  which  he  would  be  subject.  Christ  referred  to  the 
fact  that  "It  hath  been  said  that  whosoever  shall  put 
away  his  wife,  let  him  give  her  a  writing  of  divorce- 
ment, but  I  say  unto  you  that  whosoever  shall  put 
away  his  wife,  save  for  the  cause  of  fornication,  causeth 
her  to  commit  adultery."  But  the  present-day  man- 
dates of  Christianity  are  in  no  way  in  keeping  with 
this. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  every  one  must  admit  that  the 
only  conformation  which  Christians  make  to  the  com- 
mands and  counsel  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  a 
repetition  of  the  verses  following  on  "After  this  manner 
therefore  pray  ye,"  and  those  commands  which  are  at 
variance  to-day  with  statutory  and  conventional  laws. 

I  am  not  railing  against  Christianity.  I  am  of  those 
who  firmly  believe  that  if  we  were  to  conform  our  lives 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  195 

to  the  tenets  of  the  ethical  and  moral  teaching  of 
Christ  we  should  not  have  the  need  of  social  recon- 
struction which  we  have  to-day.  I  am  contending 
against  the  hypocrisy  of  those  who  proclaim  them- 
selves Christians  from  the  housetops  and  who  persecute 
others  who  do  not  conform  to  those  trivial  doctrinal 
modifications  which  one  sect  maintains  are  the  only  true 
interpretations  of  Christ's  teachings.  I  am  clamor- 
ing against  the  flimsy  hypocrisy  under  which  half  the 
people  df  the  civilized  world  live  in  regard  to  marriage, 
and  who  pretend  to  shudder  and  feel  ill  when  you  pro- 
fess that  you  cannot  look  upon  marriage  as  a  sacra- 
ment. I  am  railing  against  those  who  believe  that 
there  should  be  one  code  of  so-called  morality  for  men 
and  an  entirely  different  one  for  women.  If  the  code 
that  is  practically  universally  accepted  to-day  is  proper 
for  men,  it  is  likewise  proper  for  women,  and  I  want 
to  live  to  see  the  day  when  women  will  have  as  much 
freedom  in  their  conduct  in  every  walk  of  life  as  men 
have.  The  idea  that  woman's  life  centres  in  mother- 
hood and  that  all  her  instincts  and  desires  are  directed, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  to  that  end  is  buncombe. 
It  would  be  just  as  legitimate  to  contend  that  all  man's 
instincts  and  desires  centre  in  fatherhood  and  that 
his  frenzied  passion  to  accumulate  fortune,  or  his 
uncontrollable  ambition  to  obtain  fame,  or  his  insatiate 
appetite  for  power,  or  his  insuppressible  feeling  to  ex- 
ternalize his  thoughts  in  music,  in  art,  in  poetry,  in 
invention,  were  all  secondary  characteristics.  The 
reproductive  faculty  of  woman  is  incidental  to  her 
existence.  If  any  one  desires  to  claim  it  was  the  pur- 
pose of  God  in  creating  her,  I  shall  not  deny  it,  but 
as  a  student  of  human  nature,  and  as  a  physician  whose 


196  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

life  has  been  spent  with  women — most  of  them,  fortu- 
nately for  me,  honest  and  intelligent — I  maintain  that 
civilized,  cultivated,  thinking  women  do  not  find  that 
motherhood  satisfies  their  demands,  their  yearnings, 
their  aspirations — in  brief,  their  personal  development. 
The  creative  will  has  other  yearnings;  not  so  impera- 
tive always  in  their  demands  for  satisfaction,  but 
nevertheless  insistent  on  being  satisfied  if  the  pos- 
sessor is  to  be  spiritually  content. 

There  are  other  reasons  for  the  decline  in  the  birth- 
rate of  the  educated  and  civilized  people  of  every 
country  than  the  fact  that  motherhood  does  not  com- 
pletely satisfy  the  physical  and  mental  demands  of 
women — financial  reasons,  social  reasons,  and  rea- 
sons that  partake  of  both  of  them,  yet  not  entirely  of 
them,  such  as  the  occupation  of  women  and  the  cel- 
ibacy which  comes  of  enforcement  or  from  choice. 
These  must  be  taken  into  consideration  in  our  social 
renaissance  when  we  shall  erect  our  ideals  of  justice 
and  liberty.  The  time  will  never  come  again  when 
woman  shall  be  man's  willing  or  unwilling  slave.  The 
time  has  gone  by  when  society  shall  require  that  the 
wife  be  faithful  while  the  husband  is  faithless.  Never 
again  will  the  saintly,  self-sacrificing  woman  who  never 
questions  her  husband's  authority  but  who  yields  su- 
pinely to  his  will  be  our  ideal. 

Woman  may  not  be  so  strong  as  man.  She  may  not 
be  so  truthful.  She  may  be  more  impressionable  to 
sinister  influences.  She  may  be  less  capable  of  erecting 
ideals  and  conforming  her  conduct  to  them.  She  may 
be  less  steadfast  in  the  pursuit  of  any  plan  of  life,  or 
less  capable  of  adhering  to  the  ideal  canons  of  conduct. 
She  may  or  may  not  have  any  or  all  of  the  sins  of 


WOMAN'S  CAUSE  IS  MAN'S  197 

omission  or  commission  of  which  she  is  accused  by 
man,  but  she  is  a  human  being  made  in  God's  image, 
of  whom  He  may  be  more  proud  than  He  is  of  man. 
She  has  been  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  liberty  and  of 
freedom  for  the  past  five  years,  and  to  such  purpose 
that  at  the  present  moment  she  is  not  only  able  to 
walk  but  to  stride.  In  the  future  it  will  require  the 
best  effort  of  man  to  outdistance  her,  even  though  he 
has  the  benefit  of  ages  of  experience  and  the  advantage 
of  a  start  of  forty  thousand  years. 

We  shall  soon  see  whether  Socrates  was  right  when  he 
said:  " Woman  once  made  equal  to  man  becometh  his 
superior." 


CHAPTER  XII 
POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES 

It  seems  incredible  that  we  who  have  chanted  "  Peace 
on  earth,  good-will  to  men"  for  upward  of  two  thousand 
years,  professing  the  Christian  religion  and  enjoying 
its  benefits,  should  have  in  the  year  1914  proceeded  to 
discredit  our  professions  and  our  protestations. 

It  is  interesting  to  have  lived  in  those  times,  for 
it  brought  into  one's  thoughts  and  imagination  sen- 
tient recognition  of  qualities  or  characteristics  of  in- 
dividuals and  of  peoples  which,  until  the  advent  of 
the  war,  one  didn't  know  existed.  Students  of  events 
curious  to  know  and  to  understand  the  factors  and 
forces  that  had  shaped  the  world,  geographically, 
politically,  socially,  religiously,  were  obliged  until 
1914  to  rely  upon  the  written  records  of  the  past. 
After  that  they  had  but  to  observe  daily  events  or 
read  of  them  in  the  public  press  to  become  apprised  of 
what  is  meant  by  world  progress.  It  has  been  a  uni- 
versal belief  that  greater  reform,  politically  and  so- 
cially, flowed  from  the  French  Revolution  than  from 
any  premeditated,  organized  violence  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  In  the  years  preceding  that  momentous 
event  the  peoples  of  Europe,  and  more  especially  those 
of  France,  were  living  in  a  state  of  intellectual  and  phys- 
ical oppression  which  is  almost  impossible  for  the  in- 
dividual of  average  intelligence  and  education  to  ap- 
preciate. Although  republican  forms  of  government 
had  frequently  existed  and  had  been  conducted  in 

198 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  199 

many  instances  with  much  success,  there  was  no  in- 
dication that  any  of  them  had  left  the  smallest  trace 
of  democracy  in  Europe,  and  the  idea  of  social  equality 
on  a  physical,  intellectual,  moral  basis  did  not  exist. 
I  fancy  there  is  scarcely  an  observer  of  the  events  which 
transpired  during  the  Great  War,  or  a  person  who  gives 
any  concrete  thought  to  the  matter,  who  will  not  ad- 
mit— indeed,  who  will  not  maintain — that  the  results 
which  have  issued  and  which  shall  issue  from  that 
conflict  and  particularly  those  that  have  to  do  with 
men's  relationship  to  each  other  in  every  walk  of  life, 
whether  it  be  governmental  or  individual,  conductual 
or  spiritual,  will  be  so  radically  changed  that  the  issues 
of  the  French  Revolution  will  seem  trivial  compared 
with  them. 

It  was  vouchsafed  me  to  be  in  a  position  during  the 
last  year  of  the  war  to  see  at  short  range  and  some- 
times from  a  vantage-point  the  workings  of  the  minds 
of  a  people  who  have  had  liberty,  unity,  and  nationality 
on  their  tongues  and  in  their  hearts  for  half  a  century 
and  more.  The  Italians  were  in  the  lime-light  from  the 
day  Germany  threw  a  brand  laden  with  explosives  and 
poison  gases  into  the  different  Christian  countries  of 
Europe.  Her  conduct  as  a  whole  since  that  time  has 
been  one  of  dignity,  honesty,  responsibility,  and  the 
exponent  of  the  highest  ideals  of  nationality.  Whether 
or  not  she  succeeded  at  any  time  in  gaining  the  com- 
plete and  absolute  confidence  of  her  allies,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say.  To  get  the  confidence  of  an  individual 
or  a  country  you  must  trust  them,  and  the  more  im- 
plicitly you  trust  the  greater  will  be  the  confidence 
and  the  finer  the  quality.  Every  one  knows  that 
Italy's  alliance  with  Austria  was  an  unnatural  one 


200  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  the  majority  of  her  people  have  always  believed 
that  the  issue  of  it  would  be  disastrous.  Even  the 
most  shallow  student  of  history  knows  that  Austria 
stood  menacingly  over  Italy  during  the  entire  period 
of  the  unholy  alliance,  but  never  more  insultingly  so 
than  in  1912,  when  she  veritably  defended  Turkey, 
while  Italy  was  at  war  with  that  country.  When 
Italy  decided  to  throw  her  lot  in  with  the  Allies,  there 
is  no  doubt  whatsoever  that  it  was  with  the  hearty 
approbation  of  the  vast  majority  of  her  people.  The 
treaty  which  her  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  Sonnino, 
made  with  the  Allies,  and  which  is  known  as  the  Treaty 
of  London,  and  which  sets  forth  what  Italy  was  to  have 
when  victory  was  hers,  although  not  known  to  the 
people,  was  satisfactory  to  the  government,  and  one 
who  reads  it  now  can  readily  understand  why  it  was 
so.  The  question  was — would  it  be  satisfactory  to 
other  governments?  Was  it  an  instrument  consistent 
with  the  new  liberty?  Was  it  not  at  variance  with 
what  was  going  to  be  considered  a  fundamental  right 
of  the  people,  the  principle  of  self-determination? 

Italy's  conduct  during  the  first  two  years  of  the  war 
drew  forth  the  approbation,  the  praise,  and  the  ad- 
miration of  the  whole  world.  The  quality  of  appro- 
bation was  undoubtedly  merited.  Whether  the  quan- 
tity was  merited  is  another  question.  Then  came 
their  colossal  disaster  of  Caporetto,  the  explanations 
of  which  have  been  many — some  partially  satisfactory, 
others  not  at  all.  One  of  the  undeniable  results  of  it 
was  that  upward  of  a  half-million  of  her  vigorous  fight- 
ing men  were  marched  into  Austrian  detention-camps 
and  prisons.  The  results  of  this  defalcation  upon 
Italy  and  upon  her  internal  resistance  everybody  knows. 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  201 

It  was  a  greater  shock  to  Italy  and  far  more  sinister 
in  its  effect  than  it  was  upon  the  Allies.  Following  it, 
she  gave  an  example  of  capacity  to  put  her  house  in 
order,  and  to  present  a  solid  front,  the  like  of  which 
has  rarely  been  given  by  any  country  of  the  world. 
She  cleaned  her  house  to  good  purpose.  How  thor- 
oughly she  cleaned  it  no  one  can  possibly  know  who 
was  not  permitted  to  enter  it.  The  account  which 
she  gave  of  her  courage  and  her  strength  when  the 
enemy  attempted  to  cross  the  Piave,  in  June  of  1918, 
and  which  she  gave  in  maintaining  her  lines  in  the 
mountains  against  an  enemy  infinitely  superior  in 
numbers,  was  the  earnest  of  her  honesty  and  determi- 
nation. 

There  were,  however,  some  things  that  awaited, 
and  still  await,  satisfactory  explanation.  When  the 
war  began  Italy  had  a  population  of  about  thirty-six 
millions,  Austria-Hungary  about  fifty-four  millions. 
Italy  had  an  army  of  upward  of  four  millions  of  men. 
It  was  currently  estimated  that  Austria-Hungary  had 
an  army  of  between  six  and  seven  millions.  It  is 
believed  by  the  Italians  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
dual  monarchy's  army  was  on  the  Italian  front,  and 
Italy  convinced  herself  that  she  was  standing  out 
practically  alone  against  an  army  of  greatly  superior 
numerical  strength  and  larger  military  reserves.  She 
admitted  that  a  few  Allied  divisions  were  with  her, 
but  she  maintained  that  she  was  giving  far  more  to 
the  western  front  than  she  received  from  all  the  Allies. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  there  were  a  hundred  thousand 
Italians  in  France,  both  in  the  lines  and  behind  them, 
and  there  is  likewise  no  doubt  that  there  was  no  such 
number  of  Allied  soldiers  in  Italy.    She  had  called  to 


202  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

the  colors  boys  born  in  1899  and  1900.  Indeed,  youths 
of  the  1899  class  were  sent  to  the  front  after  the  military 
reverses  of  October,  1917.  Italy  looked  upon  this  in 
the  light  of  a  sacrifice  which  she  was  obliged  to  make  in 
order  to  resist  the  forces  of  the  empire  which  was  at  her 
throat.  She  believed  that  the  Italian  front  was  of 
signal  importance  to  the  alliance  as  a  whole,  and  she 
made  no  secret  of  the  fact  that  she  was  counting  on 
the  immediate  assistance  of  American  divisions.  Her 
government  frequently  said  that  very  nearly  a  tenth 
of  her  entire  population  was  in  the  United  States, 
and  that  America  had  always  been  her  most  trust- 
worthy friend,  and  that  two  hundred  thousand  Ameri- 
can soldiers  would  not  only  be  a  great  moral  force, 
but  would  impart  fresh  vigor  to  the  national  resistance. 

No  one  denied  the  truth  of  these  statements,  but 
cogitating  on  them  one  is  led  to  certain  reflections,  and 
they  are:  With  an  army  of  four  millions  of  men,  why 
is  it  they  were  able  to  put  only  a  million  and  a  half  on 
the  front?  I  understand  that  men  were  needed  for 
munition  factories,  for  the  essential  industries  that 
provide  for  war  consumption,  and  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  civil  population;  that  fields  must  be  tilled,  mines 
must  be  worked,  water  power  must  be  guarded,  and 
railways  must  be  manned.  These  things  have  to  be 
done  in  every  country,  but  soldiers  do  not  do  them. 
Other  countries  have  militarized  workmen,  but  they 
do  not  count  them  when  they  are  enumerating  the 
man  strength  of  their  army.  In  reality  Italy  had  called 
to  the  colors  all  her  healthy  men  between  eighteen  and 
forty-five  in  order  that  she  might  more  easily  manage 
them,  govern  them,  discipline  them. 

The  outsider  who  sees  Italy  through  the  veil  of  her 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  203 

statesmen's  oratory  and  polemics  knows  her  only 
pleasantly  masked.  One  is  led  to  think  sometimes 
that  they  are  more  concerned  with  the  appearance 
than  the  substance.  It  often  looks  as  if  they  were 
banking  too  much  upon  her  great  and  glorious  past, 
and  not  looking  to  the  furthering  of  conditions  that 
make  for  the  happiness  and  efficiency  of  their  people. 
The  conditions  produced  by  the  war  have  reminded 
the  politicians  in  control  that  the  people  love  their 
government  in  proportion  to  the  benefits  they  derive 
from  it,  and  I  fancy  it  has  at  times  felt  that  the  people 
were  not  giving  it  that  strong  support  which  is  rooted 
in  love  and  consideration.  "  Four-fifths  of  the  Italians 
have  always  lived  on  the  war  footing/ '  said  Prime 
Minister  Orlando  in  one  of  his  speeches  to  Parliament. 
He  meant  to  convey  that  the  Italians,  being  accus- 
tomed to  hardships  and  sacrifices,  could  stand  war 
better  than  others.  He  claimed  to  see  in  this  a  source 
of  strength.  Yet  he  must  have  known  that  the  sol- 
diers lying  down  by  the  roadside  in  the  days  of 
Caporetto,  awaiting  with  Mohammedan  indifference 
the  coming  of  the  Austrians,  were  replying  to  the  of- 
ficers who  were  urging  them  to  retreat  to  some  place 
of  reorganization:  "We  have  always  lived  on  polenta, 
and  we  shall  always  have  it,  and  it  will  always  taste 
the  same  even  if  the  Austrians  win."  Though  not 
responsible  for  the  sins  of  the  past,  it  seems  incredible 
that  the  authorities  were  not  aware  of  this  wide-spread 
feeling  among  the  people. 

It  is  in  the  hour  of  great  trial  that  our  conscience 
shows  us,  as  in  a  mirror,  all  our  past  shortcomings, 
and  it  admonishes  us  that  we  reap  what  we  have  sown. 
Reviewing  the  past,   the  Italian  Government  must 


204  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

have  known  that  it  could  not  have  the  unswerving 
loyalty  of  a  people  who  for  fifty  years  had  been  fed 
on  promises,  big  words,  and  magniloquent  speeches 
covering  illiterateness,  oppressive  taxation,  obstacles 
to  activity,  and  necessity  of  emigration.  It  is  not 
with  words  alone  that  one  gives  happiness  to  a  nation 
and  receives  love  and  support.  Emigration  and  Bol- 
shevism are  the  two  symptoms  of  the  disease  that 
threatens  the  nation.  Nearly  a  million  Italians  emi- 
grated in  1913,  and  socialism  has  a  firmer  footing  in 
Italy  than  in  any  other  country.  Surely  these  facts 
have  far-reaching  significance.  The  conclusion  is  that 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  men  had  to  be  called 
to  the  colors  so  as  to  manage  them  better  with  martial 
discipline.  Possibly  it  was  a  wise  measure  and  a  neces- 
sary prologue  to  the  rigid  censorship  and  to  Sacchi's 
decree,  which  was  a  kind  of  lettre  de  cachet 

I  have  often  asked  myself,  What  is  the  Italian's 
most  dominant  characteristic?  What  is  his  most 
conspicuous  idiosyncrasy?  One  day  I  answer  it  in 
one  way,  another  in  another.  But  on  mature  reflec- 
tion I  think  it  is  that  he  believes  what  he  wants  to 
believe  and  that  he  does  not  trust  any  one  implicitly. 
He  trusts  his  own  fellow  citizen  least  of  all.  He  says 
he  trusts  him,  but  when  he  puts  him  in  a  position  of 
trust  he  puts  somebody  in  to  watch  him  and  to  re- 
port on  him.  The  Italian  has  not  that  confidence  in 
his  fellow  human  beings  that  a  normal  man  has  in  his 
honest  wife,  that  a  normal  mother  has  in  her  dutiful 
child,  that  a  normal  lover  has  in  his  trusted  innamorata. 
I  am  so  prejudiced  in  the  Italian's  favor  that  I  must 
defend  even  his  infirmities.  For  centuries  Italy  was 
divided  and  weak,  and  countless  times  she  has  been 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  205 

the  tool  of  the  ambitious,  the  insatiate,  and  the  pred- 
atory. She  has  been  used  over  and  over  by  more 
powerful  nations  as  tongs  to  get  their  chestnuts  out 
of  the  fire.  For  every  favor  she  has  received  she  has 
had  to  pay  dearly,  and  she  has  learned  by  sad  experi- 
ence that  promises  are  usually  made  of  fragile  material. 
Leaving  out  the  treatment  she  received  from  France 
and  England  in  the  nineteenth  century,  more  par- 
ticularly during  the  years  when  she  was  big  with 
nationality  and  unity,  and  during  the  period  when 
she  gave  birth  to  these  beloved  terms,  the  treatment 
she  received  from  these  nations  in  1911  and  1912, 
while  she  was  waging  the  Libyan  War,  still  rankles  in 
her  bosom.  Despite  Salisbury's  promises  and  his 
parable  of  the  stag,  they  recall  England's  disparage- 
ment of  her  initiative  and  of  her  conduct  of  her  right- 
eous war.  They  recall  the  sinister  frenzy  that  France 
displayed  when  they  took  the  S.  S.  Carthage  into  one 
of  their  ports  because  they  believed  she  was  carrying 
aeroplanes  to  the  Turks,  and  the  S.  S.  Manouba  be- 
cause she  had  Turkish  passengers  camouflaged  as 
doctors  and  nurses.  She  recalls  also  that  when  the 
Hague  Tribunal  practically  decided  in  her  favor, 
neither  France  nor  England  displayed  the  slightest 
graciousness. 

Despite  these  stabs  of  yesterday,  Italy  must  purge 
herself  of  distrust,  which  is  the  ferment  and  leaven  of 
weakness.  She  must  make  good  her  alleged  trust  of 
France,  her  professed  confidence  in  England,  her  hail 
of  the  United  States  as  her  deliverer.  It  is  difficult 
for  me  to  believe  that  often  she  has  not  had  one  lan- 
guage on  her  lips  and  another  in  her  heart.  The  time 
has  come  when  she  must  make  the  words  of  her  heart 


206  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

and  her  tongue  one.  The  moment  has  arrived  when 
she  must  put  her  cards  upon  the  table  and  say:  "That 
is  my  hand  and  I  play  the  cards  face  upward."  If 
she  can  be  made  to  realize  it,  Italy  is  big  with  the 
prospect  of  a  glorious  future  and  her  delivery  will  not 
be  long  delayed. 

Nothing  impressed  me  so  much  in  italy  during  the 
momentous  last  months  of  the  war  as  her  ideas  of 
nationality,  the  ideas  that  found  dissemination,  if  not 
birth,  in  the  prophetic  soul  of  Mazzini  and  which 
began  to  germinate  nearly  a  century  ago.  "Great 
ideas  make  peoples  great,  and  ideas  are  not  great  for 
the  peoples  unless  they  go  beyond  their  boundaries. 
A  people  to  be  great  must  fulfil  a  great  and  holy  mis- 
sion in  the  world.  Internal  organization  represents 
the  sum  of  means  and  forces  accumulated  for  the  per- 
formance of  a  preordained  mission  without.  National 
life  is  the  instrument;  international  life  the  goal.  The 
prosperity,  -the  glory,  the  future  of  a  nation  are  in  pro- 
portion to  its  approximation  to  the  assigned  goal." 
These  words  were  written  by  Mazzini  several  years 
after  his  ideas  had  made  Italy  great,  and  during  the 
war  they  were  on  the  tongue  and  in  the  pen  of  every 
constructive  statesman  who  was  satisfied  to  live  only 
under  liberty's  banner. 

For  fifty  years  or  more,  but  particularly  since  that 
fateful  day,  the  20th  of  September,  1870,  when  Italian 
union  became  a  reality,  she  had  professed  the  pro- 
foundest  sympathy  for  the  oppressed  nations  of  her 
hereditary  and  actual  enemy,  Austria-Hungary.  Since 
the  beginning  of  the  World  War  the  proud  spirits  of 
these  oppressed  nations,  now  commonly  spoken  of  as 
the  Czecho-Slovaks,  had  been  active  in  devising  plans 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  207 

that  would  liberate  them  and  their  peoples  from  the 
jaws  of  the  monster.  The  whole  civilized  world  who 
love  liberty  were  in  sympathy  with  them.  No  one 
denies  that  they  accomplished  results  that  were  almost 
miraculous.  Those  who  had  real  knowledge  of  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world  knew  that  in  a  measure  we 
owed  to  them  the  secrets  of  Germany's  diabolic  machi- 
nations in  our  own  country  when  we  were  on  terms  of 
amity  with  the  Central  Powers.  It  was  not  denied 
that  Italy's  success  on  the  Piave  in  June,  1918,  was 
in  some  measure  at  least  due  to  the  information  that 
the  Czecho-Slovaks  were  able  to  give  the  Italians. 

In  April,  1918,  there  was  a  congress  of  Czecho- 
slovaks in  Rome,  which  was  warmly  received  by  the 
Italian  people  and  by  some  representatives  of  the 
Italian  Government.  This  congress  formulated  the 
principles  upon  which  it  was  waging  war  against  Aus- 
tria-Hungary. It  set  forth  in  language  that  even  a 
child  could  understand  its  ideas  of  nationality.  It  put 
before  the  democratic  nations  of  the  world  the  ideas 
that  they  represented  and  proposed  to  represent. 
Their  claims  received  the  approbation  of  the  prime 
minister  of  Italy,  but  for  some  inexplicable  reason  the 
stamp  of  approval  of  Italy's  minister  of  foreign 
affairs,  the  only  one  who  was  in  a  position  to  represent 
the  government  authoritatively,  was  withheld  from 
them.  It  was  necessary,  apparently,  to  bring  the 
country  to  the  brink  of  dissolution  of  its  government 
by  a  public  agitation  of  the  question  initiated  by  the 
Corriere  delta  Sera  before  Sonnino's  official  approval 
of  their  aims  could  be  secured.  Despite  the  fact  that 
France,  England,  the  United  States,  Japan  had  in  turn 
accorded  to  the  Czecho-Slovaks  the  right  of  national- 


208  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

ity,  and  despite  the  fact  that  it  was  well  known  that 
that  organization  called  into  being  by  Italy's  noble, 
loyal  sons  known  as  the  Fascio  was  warmly  and  in- 
dustriously championing  the  cause  of  these  oppressed 
people,  yet  the  governmental  hand  had  to  be  forced 
before  she  would  put  it  on  the  table  and  play  her  cards 
face  upward.  When  the  Corriere  della  Sera  was  able 
to  throw  off  the  manacles  of  the  censorship  and  bring 
the  subject  of  discussion  into  the  public  arena,  the 
influential  journals  that  represent  the  standpatters  in 
the  government,  such  as  the  Giornale  d'ltalia,  the 
Epoca,  and  even  the  Messaggero,  denied  that  there  was 
any  dissension  or  shadow  of  dissension  between  the 
prime  minister  and  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs, 
and  they  continued  to  deny  it  in  the  most  determined 
and  deliberate  way  up  until  the  very  last  moment. 
Sonnino's  champions  maintained  that  the  position  he 
took  was  necessary  that  Austria-Hungary's  intrigues 
be  rooted  up  and  killed.  The  fear  was  expressed  that 
the  new  policy  favorable  to  the  Jugoslavs  might  cir- 
cumvent the  stipulations  of  the  Treaty  of  London, 
which  were  favorable  to  Italy,  and  sacrifice  them  to 
the  exaggerated  claims  of  the  Jugoslav  ideas  of  nation- 
ality. 

The  Corriere  della  Sera  pointed  out  the  futility  of 
too  great  adherence  to  the  Treaty  of  London  and 
asked:  "Can  we  expect  Wilson  to  feel  bound  by  the 
I.  O.  U.  given  to  us  in  London  if  he  did  not  sign  it?" 
It  insisted  that  the  maintenance  of  the  London  treaty 
in  full  force  was  incompatible  with  a  policy  favorable 
to  Czecho-Slav  aspirations.  This  embittered  those 
holding  the  opposite  view.  The  Tempo  rejoined:  "An 
attempt  is  made  to  make  Italians  believe  that  there  is 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  209 

a  conflict  between  Rome  and  Washington  due  to  our 
1  imperialistic  ambitions/  which  are  looked  upon  with 
distrust  by  Washington.  It  is  for  this  reason,  they 
tell  us,  that  the  United  States  is  loath  to  give  us  the 
help  of  their  forces  on  our  front.  The  nation  rebels 
against  this  and  will  not  allow  anybody  to  put  a  noose 
around  her  neck  and  blackmail  her  by  any  such 
dilemma:  either  we  must  have  a  change  of  policy, 
with  consequent  revision  of  the  London  stipulations, 
or  abandonment  on  the  part  of  the  Allies.  We  are 
not  defending  Sonnino,  but  what  is  much  nearer  our 
heart — the  interests  of  Italy.  We  defend  the  Pact  of 
London  as  the  only  guarantee  of  our  interests.  You 
can't  tell  us  that  an  effort  is  not  being  made  to  diminish 
those  stipulations :  It  is  not  true  .  .  ."  (Here  the  cen- 
sor intervened.)  "We  entertain  no  prejudice  against 
the  Czecho-Slavs  provided  they  do  not  insist  stub- 
bornly on  crossing  our  path,  and  prove  that  they  can 
do  what  is  necessary  in  their  own  interests  instead  of 
expecting  sacrifices  from  us.  Let  them  meet  us  half- 
way by  implicitly  recognizing  the  integrity  of  the 
rights  guaranteed  to  us  by  the  Treaty  of  London, 
which  are  the  reasons  for  our  having  entered  into  this 
war." 

In  the  same  paper,  August  20,  1918,  appeared  this 
editorial  statement: 

"Either  this  war  will  make  us  secure  in  the  Adriatic 
or  it  will  be  a  complete  failure  as  far  as  we  are  concerned. 
In  politics  there  are  no  friends.  There  are  interests 
only.  The  friends  of  to-day  may  be  the  enemies  of 
to-morrow.  It  doesn't  profit  us  to  take  away  the 
control  of  the  Adriatic  from  Austria  to  give  it  to  those 
who  up  to  yesterday  have  been  the  bitter  enemies  of 


210  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

our  race  and  who  now,  because  it  is  convenient  to 
them,  pose  as  our  friends.  We  are  not  surprised  that 
this  is  of  no  concern  to  Mr.  Steed  (the  English  pro- 
Jugoslav  journalist,  for  many  years  correspondent  of 
the  London  Times  in  Italy  and  now  its  editor).  Were 
we  English  instead  of  Italian  we  also  would  not  mind 
to  see  the  Czecho- Slavs  inherit  the  vantage  position 
of  the  Adriatic  held  to-day  by  the  Central  Empires. 
This  may  be  sufficient  for  those  who  only  see  in  this 
war  an  Anglo-German  conflict,  but  it  is  not  sufficient 
for  those  who  look  only  at  Italian  interests.  It  is 
easily  conceivable  that  others  may  be  interested  in  per- 
petuating our  weakness  in  the  Adriatic  which  will 
prevent  our  further  development,  but  it  is  absurd  that 
Italians  should  blindly  follow  such  foreigners.  Ask 
our  navy  officers,  defenders  of  Italy,  what  they  think 
of  those  who  advise  us  to  give  up  our  just  claims  to 
the  Dalmatian  coast  and  islands,  which  is  not  only  a 
pistol  aimed  at  Italy's  head,  but  a  series  of  machine 
guns.  The  Treaty  of  London  covers  also  our  rights 
on  the  iEgean  islands,  eastern  Mediterranean,  and 
colonies.  If  we  establish  the  precedent  that  this 
.treaty  can  be  abrogated  or  diminished,  we  do  not 
'know  where  this  may  lead  us — all  our  interests  pro- 
tected by  it  may  be  questioned  sooner  or  later.  This 
fact  has  surely  not  been  grasped  by  those  who  intoxicate 
themselves  with  demagogic  magniloquence,  who  be- 
lieve that  after  the  war  men  will  go  to  play  the  bag- 
pipe in  the  shade  of  ilex-trees,  and  that  the  kingdom 
of  Saturn  will  be  restored.  It  can  be  understood  only 
by  men  still  in  possession  of  their  full  mental  powers, 
who  know  that  this  is  a  conflict  of  political  and  eco- 
nomic interests,  after  which  men  will  continue  to  forge 
weapons  for  the  great  competitions  in  the  vast  world, 
resuming  the  struggle  for  the  control  of  colonial  mar- 
kets and  supremacy  of  the  seas.  Only  such  men 
understand  the  necessity  of  defending  unguibus  et 
rostris,  even  against  our  allies,  the  juridical  ground 
we  have  conquered.    The  London  treaty  must  not 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  211 

be  discussed,  as  it  is  the  only  justification  for  our  war, 
conceived  as  a  war,  for  national  development  and 
balance  of  power  among  the  nations  which  will  con- 
stitute the  new  world  which  will  be  born  out  of  this 
conflict.  Whosoever  thinks  differently  is  a  traitor 
to  his  country." 

This  is  what  may  properly  be  called  "tall  talk." 
After  this  climax  of  virulence,  a  tendency  developed 
in  the  press  tending  to  mitigate  the  effect  of  such  ran- 
cor. An  attempt  was  made  to  show  that  the  variance 
of  opinions  was  more  formal  than  substantial,  and  that 
it  was  for  Parliament  to  decide.  Even  the  Idea 
Nazionale  expressed  this  opinion,  though  for  years 
it  conducted  a  campaign  to  undermine  the  authority 
and  prestige  of  parliamentary  institutions  in  Italy. 

The  Tempo,  however,  did  not  back  down,  but  asked : 
"Is  it  true  or  not  that  during  the  meeting  of  the  op- 
pressed Czecho-Slavs  in  Rome  no  territorial  agree- 
ment could  be  arrived  at  because  the  Czecho-Slav 
representatives  did  not  want  to  accept  the  Adriatic 
limitations  involved  by  the  Treaty  of  London?"  It 
also  sarcastically  remarked  that  the  Treaty  of  London 
is  now  being  called  the  "Pact  of  London,"  that  some- 
body has  already  started  to  call  it  a  "memoran- 
dum," and  that  it  is  to  be  expected  that  soon  it  will  be 
called  a  "laundry  list."  And  it  continued:  "Is  it 
true  or  not  that  our  requests,  contained  in  that  docu- 
ment, are  an  indispensable  minimum  to  insure  our 
safety  in  the  Adriatic  such  as  will  justify  the  enor- 
mous sacrifices  we  have  made  in  this  war?  Are  we 
not  right,  then,  to  distrust  this  policy  favorable  to  the 
Czecho-Slavs  which  tends  to  postpone  the  solution 
of   geographic   points   without   first   recognizing   the 


212  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Italian  claims  as  being  fundamental  ?  Let  the  Czecho- 
Slavs  first  recognize  our  right  to  safety  and  let  them 
dispel  our  legitimate  diffidence.  All  this  discussion 
seems  to  have  been  the  pleasant  outcome  of  those  who 
entertain  the  jolly  notion  that  we  are  waging  a  poetic 
war  instead  of  trying  to  solve  in  our  favor  vital  mili- 
tary and  political  problems,  and  that  we  should  be 
perfectly  unconcerned  about  knowing  whether  on  the 
other  shore  of  the  Adriatic  there  will  be  either  Ger- 
mans or  Slavs,  Republicans,  Catholics,  Orthodox, 
Conservatives,  Democrats,  musicians,  or  poets." 

Gradually  the  thunder-clouds  began  to  disperse  and 
a  conciliatory  element  was  introduced  into  the  dis- 
cussion. "Rastignac,"  who  drives  an  authoritative 
quill,  and  who  is  one  of  the  leading  and  much-listened- 
to  journalists  and  lawyers  of  Italy,  wrote  in  the  Tri- 
buna,  the  newspaper  identified  with  Giolitti: 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  keep  silent  instead  of 
creating  currents  of  ideas  hostile  to  Italy,  all  on  ac- 
count of  the  Pact  of  Rome  between  an  Italy  which  is 
still  invaded  by  Austria  and  a  Jugoslavia  which  still 
exists  in  dreamland?  Is  this  new  pact,  born  through 
the  efforts  of  the  Anglo-French  friends  of  the  Czecho- 
Slavs,  capable  of  diminishing  the  Treaty  of  London, 
which  is  fundamental  for  our  interests?  Poor  Italy, 
if  this  should  prove  to  be  the  case.  We  are  quarrelling 
as  if  the  war  had  ended,  Austria  had  been  conquered 
and  dismembered,  and  as  if  we  were  already  seated 
before  the  green  table  for  the  signature  of  that  treaty 
which  will  assign  to  this  or  the  other  power  the  shreds 
of  Austria.  Meanwhile  we  forget  that  there  are 
seventy-two  Austrian  divisions  on  our  soil,  and  that 
the  war  is  continuing  without  the  possibility  of  fore- 
seeing when  it  will  end.  I  am  well  aware  that  our 
friends  of  England  and  France,  prompted  by  their 


POSTBELLUM  VAGARIES  213 

great  love  for  Jugoslavia,  seem  quite  ready  to  sacrifice 
the  Treaty  of  London  to  the  new  Pact  of  Rome.  These 
friends  are  strongly  inclined  to  be  very  generous,  at 
our  expense  unfortunately.  We  are  being  lulled  into 
the  belief  of  a  sure  dismemberment  of  Austria,  on 
which  dismemberment  is  based  this  new  creation  of 
our  allies,  i.  e.,  Jugoslavia.  It  is  strange,  however, 
that  there  are  in  France  some  political  parties  who 
reproach  Clemenceau  for  having  ruined  the  rich  possi- 
bilities of  which  the  letter  to  'dear  Sixtus'  was  full. 
...  It  is  no  mystery  that  tradition  is  not  easily 
uprooted  in  England  and  that  one  of  the  deepest- 
rooted  of  them  has  always  been  that  of  friendship 
with  Austria.  There  are  roots  much  older  and  stronger 
than  the  new  ones  of  the  'Society  of  Nations/  .  .  . 
Let's  not  base  our  policy  entirely  on  a  hope  which  will 
last  we  do  not  know  how  long,  i.  e.,  the  destruction  of 
Austria.  Do  not  forget,  please,  that  this,  the  greatest 
conflict  of  history,  is  nothing  but  a  conflict  of  interests 
ill-concealed  under  the  rosy  cloak  of  the  highest  and 
noblest  idealism.  Its  true  essence  remains  a  struggle 
for  political  and  commercial  supremacy.  It  is  no 
time  now  to  read  the  'Fioretti  of  St.  Francis.'  We 
shall  have  time  later  on  for  this." 

The  Corriere  delta  Sera  stuck  to  its  guns.  It  was 
neither  blinded  by  the  rhetorical  dust  which  the  pro- 
Sonnino  organs  kicked  up,  nor  was  it  asphyxiated  by 
their  noxious  gases,  and  Sonnino  had  to  line  himself 
with  England,  France,  the  United  States,  and  Japan 
in  according  the  Czecho-Slovaks  nationality  and  rights 
of  allies. 

Italy's  trials,  ill  fortune,  and  good  fortune  since 
then  are  much  better  understood  if  they  are  contem- 
plated in  light  of  that  discussion  and  of  her  momentous 
election  of  the  autumn  of  1919. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
WORLD  CONVALESCENCE 

We  had  become  so  habituated  to  war  and  its  machin- 
ery, its  incidents  and  horrors,  its  demands  and  entail- 
ments, that  when  we  were  thrust  suddenly  into  a  new 
world  with  whose  conduct  and  ordering  we  were  un- 
familiar we  had  the  sensation  of  one  who  comes  from 
long  tenancy  of  a  dark  room  into  the  glare  of  sunlight, 
the  feeling  of  unreality  of  one  who  emerges  from  a 
delirium.  The  abdication  of  emperors,  their  flight 
and  their  fate  distracted  us  for  a  moment;  the  abyss 
into  which  the  Central  Empires  of  Europe  had  been 
hurled  arose  before  our  eyes;  the  needs  of  the  unfortu- 
nates in  the  devastated  districts  and  of  those  struggling 
to  get  back  to  their  native  land  made  appeal  to  us; 
thoughts  of  future  work  and  play  occurred  to  us,  but 
none  of  them  engrossed  us.  Though  saturated  with  the 
joy  of  deliverance  no  one  gave  himself  over  to  revelling 
in  it.  Groping  in  darkness  as  we  have  been  for  so 
long,  we  blinked  and  gasped,  trying  to  accustom  our- 
selves to  the  divine  light  of  the  new  day  that  had 
dawned,  and  to  discern  and  define  beauties  which  the 
new  world  would  present.  We  were  like  a  person  who 
had  suddenly  been  liberated  from  a  danger  that  not 
only  threatened  his  life  but  made  existence  insupport- 
able. Utterance  could  not  give  such  thoughts  relief. 
Only  appreciative  silence  could  express  his  gratitude. 

In  the  lull  or  convalescence  that  came  after  the 
world's  injury  and  long  illness,  peace  terms  were  for- 

214 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  215 

mulated,  indemnities  exacted,  the  map  of  Europe  re- 
made, and  compacts  formulated  and  signed  to  prevent 
another  holocaust.  Thus  the  greatest  venture  the 
world  ever  embarked  upon  will  end.  Then  will  come 
the  great  task — reconstruction  of  the  workTs  institu- 
tions. 

The  question  that  has  fatigued  the  human  mind 
since  time  immemorial,  "What  shall  man  do  that  he 
may  live  again?"  is  for  the  hour  replaced  by  another 
more  likely  to  be  answered,  "What  kind  of  a  world  will 
the  one  just  wrought  be  in  which  to  live,  and  when  will 
it  be  habitable?"  The  old  world  has  been  delivered 
of  a  promising  offspring.  Its  travail  was  terrible  and 
sanious.  The  accoucheur  had  to  call  to  her  aid  the 
counsel  and  service  of  many  nations,  but  the  new-born 
world  gives  promise  of  great  tidings.  Grief  for  the  old 
world  that  yielded  its  existence  in  the  agony  of  de- 
liverance is  engulfed  by  the  joy  that  has  come  in  con- 
templation of  the  beauty,  purity,  and  immaculateness 
of  the  new  world,  in  which  liberty  shall  be  as  free  as 
the  air  in  which  it  is  suspended. 

What  will  this  new  world  that  is  arisen  from  the 
destruction  of  empires  and  from  the  ashes  of  tyrannical 
institutions  be  like  ?  In  what  way  will  it  be  better  and 
more  satisfying  than  the  one  that  existed  previous  to 
the  war?  What  are  the  benefits  that  will  flow  from 
the  sacrifices  that  have  been  made?  What  are  the 
rewards  that  will  follow  the  labor  and  effort  expended 
to  win  the  war  ?  What  are  the  mercies  that  will  be 
vouchsafed  us  for  our  deeds  of  commission  and  of 
omission?  How  shall  things  be  ordered  that  man, 
mere  man,  without  other  possession  than  intelligence, 
without  other  aspiration   than   to  be  permitted   to 


216  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

display  his  dominant  instincts, — love  and  construetive- 
ness, — without  other  ambition  than  to  enjoy  life  and 
make  others  enjoy  it,  may  be  worthy  of  his  mission 
and  deserving  of  its  reward  ?  These  are  the  questions 
that  are  occupying  the  mind  of  every  thinking  person 
in  the  whole  world  to-day. 

Before  any  one  of  them  can  be  answered  the  fate 
of  the  former  Central  Empires  must  be  settled,  because 
the  Allies  must  know  with  whom  they  are  dealing  and 
how  much  they  are  deserving  of  confidence  and  trust, 
and  how  much  they  can  be  relied  upon  to  carry  out 
the  terms  of  any  agreement.  We  may  be  absolutely 
certain  that  recent  advantageous  treaties  will  be  ab- 
rogated and  that  territories  appropriated  in  the  last 
half-century  will  be  restored.  That  which  we  cannot 
feel  reasonable  assurance  of  is  what  form  of  govern- 
ment the  former  Central  Empires  will  have,  or  whether 
that  which  they  bring  forth  will  not  be,  in  reality,  a 
resurrected  Trojan  horse,  the  Teuton's  contribution 
to  political  camouflage. 

The  spokesmen  of  these  newly  formed  governments 
say  they  will  be  democracies.  But  who  are  the  spokes- 
men ?  Are  they  not  of  them  who  until  yesterday  were 
fighting  for  the  preservation  of  the  country  and  govern- 
ment which  had  been  selected  by  God  and  by  them- 
selves to  thrust  "Kultur"  upon  the  world,  and  which 
had  been  wantonly  attacked  by  its  neighbors  on  the 
north,  the  south,  the  east,  and  the  west?  Did 
they  admit  until  that  fateful  yesterday  that  their 
government  was  not  perfect,  or  at  least  possessed  of 
only  such  trifling  imperfections  that  they,  the  Social- 
ists of  one  kind  or  another,  could  readily  remove 
them  ?    Nothing  has  transpired  in  Germany  since  the 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  217 

abdication  of  the  Kaiser,  so  far  as  we  have  been  in- 
formed, that  permits  us  to  say  with  anything  like  as- 
surance what  form  of  government  Germany  hopes  to 
have.  All  that  we  really  know  is  that  the  government 
has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  German  Socialists,  the 
deeply  dyed-in-the-wool  Socialists  and  the  Socialistic 
Democrats.  So  far  as  one  can  predicate  judgment 
on  the  reported  sayings  of  the  spokesmen  of  either  of 
these  two  parties,  the  purpose  of  the  present  govern- 
ment is  to  save  as  much  as  it  can  of  the  previous  regime 
and  to  continue  it,  minus  the  Kaiser  and  the  war  lords. 
In  none  of  the  addresses  or  communications  of  any 
of  these  spokesmen  is  there  any  real  admission  of  de- 
feat, any  intimation  of  humility,  any  indication  of 
having  been  lessoned,  nor,  indeed,  of  anything  that 
can  be  interpreted  as  recognition  of  the  fact  that  Ger- 
many has  been  the  victim  of  Grossenwahn,  megalo- 
mania, which  prompted  and  compelled  her  to  a  line 
of  conduct  which  conditioned  her  destruction.  On  the 
contrary,  everything  that  has  been  said  has  a  note  of 
determination  to  rehabilitate  herself  in  order  that  she 
may  take  the  leading  position,  morally,  intellectually, 
commercially,  in  the  world.  At  the  very  moment 
when  admission  that  she  had  lost  the  war  was  forced 
from  her,  and  while  she  was  prostrate  on  the  field  of 
battle  and  in  a  state  of  collapse  in  every  acre  of  her 
territory,  instead  of  silence  and  of  resignation,  instead 
of  an  indication  of  that  humility  which  tauts  the 
heart-strings  of  the  conqueror,  there  was  clamor  of 
exultation  setting  forth  the  virtues  of  the  people  and 
their  ineradicable  potentialities.  Having  been  denied 
victory  on  the  field  of  battle,  if  that  Gott  who  was  their 
Feste  Burg  does  not  desert  them,  they  will  now  win  a 


218  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

greater  victory — they  will  show  the  world  that  they 
can  conquer  themselves  and  convert  defeat  into  vic- 
tory. They  are  without  shame  and  without  modesty. 
They  ask  for  succor  from  the  nation  which  less  than 
eighteen  months  ago  was  a  negligible  quantity  and 
which  four  years  ago  was  made  up  of  drivelling  idiots 
and  men  mad  with  lust  for  wealth.  "You  will  not 
let  countless  thousands  of  women  and  children  die  of 
starvation."  No,  we  shall  not  let  them  starve,  but 
we  shall  have  adequate  care  that  never  again  will  it 
be  within  your  power  to  thrust  the  mailed  fist  of  one 
extremity  upon  the  honest,  God-fearing  people  of  the 
world  while  with  the  other  you  snatch  the  food  from 
the  mouths  of  those  unable,  because  of  age  or  infirmity, 
to  provide  for  themselves. 

One  does  not  fail  to  detect  the  ring  of  exultation 
with  which  they  say  that  they  will  win  the  greatest  of 
all  victories — that  of  showing  that,  though  defeated  in 
arms,  they  can  be  masters  of  themselves.  They  have 
no  recognition  whatsoever  that  the  destruction  of 
mediaeval  imperialism  and  the  unfurling  of  the  flag  of 
liberty  have  been  due  to  valor  and  sacrifice  of  the 
peoples  of  the  whole  world,  who  have  accomplished  it 
without  other  motive  than  to  make  the  world  a  fit 
place  in  which  an  honest  man  can  live.  In  short,  they 
are  endeavoring  to  make  it  seem  that  their  defeat  in 
the  material  control  of  the  world  by  the  German  sword 
is  to  be  an  opportunity  for  a  great  German  triumph. 

At  this  distance  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  arrogance  of  the  German  Kaiser  and  his 
supporters  and  the  arrogance  of  the  German  Socialists. 
They  have  every  appearance  of  being  born  of  the 
same  monstrous  mother  made  big  of  Satan.    That 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  219 

which  the  latter  axe  now  stating  they  can  do  is  the 
same  as  the  Kaiser  and  his  cohorts  of  authority, 
founded  in  divine  rights,  thought  they  could  do  and  set 
out  to  do  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  The  Germans  are 
as  intoxicated  with  their  own  vanity,  their  own  self- 
sufficiency,  their  own  divine  mission  and  potentialities 
to-day  as  they  have  been  at  any  time  in  the  twentieth 
century. 

No  one  denies  that  Germany  defeated  may  make 
any  attempt  at  government  which  she  chooses.  At 
the  same  time  no  one  can  abrogate  the  right  of  the 
conquerors  to  see  to  it  that  the  form  of  government 
which  she  institutes  and  which  she  attempts  to  carry 
into  operation  shall  not  be  one  that  militates  against 
the  success  of  the  ideals  for  which  the  Allies  have 
striven,  not  for  themselves  alone  but  for  the  whole 
world.  It  needs  no  prophetic  vision  to  discern  in  the 
expressions  of  dictatorial  arrogance  of  those  who  have 
taken  the  government  in  hand  in  Germany  the  same 
assumption  of  superiority  which  led  to  their  defeat, 
the  greatest  the  world  has  ever  seen.  In  brief,  as  we 
see  it  to-day,  the  effort  in  Germany  at  the  present 
time  is  to  substitute  one  kind  of  class  interests  for  an- 
other which  was  admitted  by  the  world's  best  judges 
to  be  not  only  pernicious  but  destructive  of  liberty. 
If  the  former  was  of  such  a  nature,  why  does  not  the 
latter  partake  of  it?  If  there  were  any  indications  of 
sincere  desire  to  establish  an  honest  form  of  demo- 
cratic government  in  Germany,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
its  originators  and  the  whole  German  people  would 
soon  realize  that  they  were  dealing  with  a  magnani- 
mous conqueror,  but  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  wild 
beast  has  now  in  its  agonal  days  the  same  snarl,  the 


220  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

same  venom,  and  the  same  shaip  teeth  that  it  had 
when  it  was  lusty  and  well-nourished,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  conquerors  should  harden  their  hearts  and 
judiciously  guard  the  springs  and  cisterns  of  their 
generosity. 

Promises  of  Germans  should  no  longer  be  adequate. 
We  should  demand  deeds,  and  not  only  that  but  that 
they  should  be  backed  by  the  sentiment  and  determina- 
tion of  the  whole  people  and  not  of  those  who  in  main- 
taining that  they  speak  for  them  speak  only  for  them- 
selves and  their  malignant  ambitions.  Teutonic  tra- 
dition and  authority  must  be  replaced  by  Jeffersonian, 
Mazzinian,  Wilsonian  liberty  and  justice. 

It  would  be  well  for  the  whole  world  to  realize  that 
we  are  on  the  threshold  of  the  most  fundamental 
transformation  that  the  human  mind  can  conceive. 
We  have  been  so  long  accustomed  to  the  institutions 
and  conventions  that  constitute  authority  and  privi- 
lege that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  any  one  to  realize 
that  they  are  about  to  cease  to  exist.  Not  only  has 
the  death-knell  of  such  class  privileges  been  rung,  but 
likewise  that  of  institutions  which  have  stultified  intel- 
lectual growth  and  moral  supremacy,  and  amongst 
them  none  has  more  importance  than  organized  religion, 
that  is,  religion  which  claims  to  be  authoritative  in  so 
much  as  its  directors  or  trustees — call  them  what  you 
may — formulate  a  dogma  to  the  teaching  of  which  all 
others  must  conform  in  order  that  they  may  have  life 
everlasting.  People's  religion  must  be  left  to  the  free 
choice  of  the  people. 

Few  of  us  realize  that  the  curtain  rung  down  on  the 
11th  of  November,  1918,  was  the  closing  of  the  second 
act  in  that  great  drama  of  which  the  first  act  was  the 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  221 

French  Revolution  and  of  which  the  third  and  closing 
act  will  be  devoted  to  social  and  political  reconstruc- 
tion. The  majority  have  some  ill-defined  notion  or 
thought  that  we  shall  go  back  to  the  kind  of  world 
that  existed  previous  to  August,  1914.  There  isn't  the 
smallest  chance  of  it.  I  doubt  whether  even  those 
who  have  had  a  vision  of  the  impending  transforma- 
tion realize,  however,  how  great  or  far-reaching  the 
change  will  be.  The  time  has  come  when  the  people 
are  going  to  rule  the  world.  They  are  going  to  admin- 
ister its  affairs  in  such  a  way  that  every  man  and 
woman  capable  of  taking  thought  will  have  oppor- 
tunity to  be  heard  and  will  be  privileged  to  live  with- 
out authority,  whose  purpose  it  is  to  make  the  masses 
conform  to  a  line  of  conduct  that  will  make  for  the 
advantage  of  the  few,  favored  by  birth  or  fortune 
which  may  have  been  their  birthright  or  their  acquisi- 
tion. For  years  the  word  socialism  and  that  for  which 
it  stands  have  been  redolent  of  bad  odor.  This  war 
has  purged  it  of  its  disagreeable  connotation,  and 
to-day  that  which  is  meant  by  socialism  is  equivalent 
to  the  rights  of  man.  In  the  minds  of  many  socialism 
and  anarchy  are  synonymous,  but  in  reality  the  social- 
ism which  the  war  just  finished  has  nurtured  to  a 
lusty  youth  is  much  freer  from  anarchy  and  from  the 
potentialities  of  destruction  than  the  reign  of  autoc- 
racy, of  capital  and  of  bosses,  which  it  supplanted. 

I  realize  that  it  is  difficult  to  defend  this  position  in 
view  of  what  is  happening  in  Russia.  To-day  the 
bugaboo  to  the  world's  children  is  Bolshevism;  that  is 
what  will  "get  us  if  we  don't  look  out."  When  a  riot 
breaks  out  anywhere  nowadays  it  is  Bolshevism.  It 
has  become  a  shibboleth,  a  name  to  conjure  with,  this 


222  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

social  and  political  experiment  in  organized  and  care- 
fully planned  violence  that  has  been  carried  out  by 
the  Jews  in  Russia  since  the  conclusion  of  the  peace 
of  Brest-Litovsk.  The  word  has  suddenly  come  into 
wide-spread  use  and  it  is  being  given  the  connotation 
of  socialism.  In  truth  it  is  the  socialism  of  the  young 
Russia.  Its  theory  is  a  perverted  Marxism  and  its 
practice  is  an  envenomed  Hindenburgism.  The  ety- 
mology of  the  word  Bolshevism  as  a  name  for  a  pesudo- 
political  party  finds  its  origin  in  the  programme  of  the 
party  itself,  that  is,  in  the  ultraradical  tendencies  of 
"Maximilist  extremists"  professed  by  the  party  lead- 
ers, Lenine,  Trotzky,  and  Sinowjew.  The  leader 
Lenine  said  of  the  Bolsheviks  in  a  moment  of  frank- 
ness: "For  every  genuine  Bolshevik  of  my  party  there 
are  sixty  idiots  and  thirty-nine  rascals,"  and  no  one 
can  doubt  his  fitness  to  judge.  We  should  not  forget 
that  the  Russian  public  that  looks  on  Lenine  as  its 
idol  is  honeycombed  with  deserters,  ruffians,  and  at 
least  three  hundred  thousand  common  criminals  who 
were  liberated  from  the  prisons  and  from  exile  in 
Siberia  by  the  revolution. 

The  Bolsheviks  are  neither  a  party  nor  are  they  the 
expression  of  democratic  and  revolutionary  Russia,  as 
a  great  many  persist  in  believing.  They  are  a  mob 
drunk  with  ultra-radical  doctrines,  who  from  excep- 
tional circumstances  have  become  able  to  seize  the 
power,  dominating  with  methods  ferociously  reaction- 
ary a  hundred  and  twenty  million  individuals.  And 
the  world  is  witnessing  in  astonishment  the  spectacle 
offered  by  these  bandits  who,  illegally  holding  the 
state  power,  arbitrarily  decide  the  fortunes  of  a  whole 
people  after  having  allured  them  with  fallacious  prom- 
ises, betraying  them  before  the  enemy. 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  223 

The  absolute  unpreparedness  of  the  Russian  people 
— eighty  per  cent  is  illiterate — to  pass  into  a  regime 
of  democracy  and  social  autonomy  has  facilitated  the 
successes  of  the  Bolsheviks,  whose  " ideas"  or  con- 
ceptions, as  expressed  in  the  programmes  of  Lenine, 
Trotzky,  et  al.,  consist  in  carrying  " persuasion"  to  the 
majority  of  the  ignorant  masses.  Such  " ideas"  are 
first  of  all  that  the  "  proletariat  has  not  and  must  not 
have  a  country."  "The  issue  of  the  World  War  is  of 
interest  to  the  proletariat  only  from  the  point  of  view 
of  the  possibility  for  them  to  take  advantage  of  the 
general  situation,  doing  everything  in  order  to  turn 
the  war  of  the  states  into  a  war  of  classes." 

The  bastard  Bolshevism  of  present-day  Russia  pro- 
fesses, furthermore,  the  conception  formerly  considered 
as  purely  anarchic  that  "the  property  of  others  does 
not  exist";  theft  and  violence  are  the  normal  means 
of  exchange;  liberty  of  speech  is  non-existent;  neither 
press  liberty  nor  a  free  literary  production  exists,  be- 
cause the  Bolsheviks  are  exercising  a  censorship  more 
tyrannical  than  the  ill-famed  imperial  censorship. 
Their  methods  of  coercion  are  to  bring  about  financial 
exhaustion  by  means  of  fines  and  indemnities;  phys- 
ical exhaustion  by  means  of  enforced  labor  and  con- 
fiscation of  food  supplies,  and  moral  exhaustion  by 
removing  the  foundations  upon  which  individual  life 
is  integrated,  removing  all  dominant  objects,  such  as 
desire  for  scientific  or  artistic  creation,  religious  prin- 
ciple, or  strong  and  lasting  affections.  It  is  not  only 
the  dictatorship  of  proletariat  which  the  Bolsheviks 
are  trying  to  establish  but  a  dictatorship  of  tyranny, 
and  they  use  every  conceivable  means,  showing  them- 
selves especially  rabid  against  the  well-to-do  classes, 


224  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

against  the  intellectuals,  against  capitalism  and  mili- 
tarism. 

The  application  of  all  this  "programme"  carries 
with  it,  as  a  first  consequence,  the  complete  dissolu- 
tion of  every  state  form,  in  the  political  sense  as  well 
as  in  the  economic  sense.  The  disorganization  is 
complete;  hunger,  by  which  the  masses  see  themselves 
threatened,  increases  the  spread  of  every  form  of 
criminality  and  violence.  The  destruction  of  every 
sentiment  of  individual  responsibility  and  the  aboli- 
tion of  religious  faith  contribute  to  take  away  from  the 
class  of  those  who  are  better  fitted  to  resist  morally 
every  obstacle  and  restraint  in  the  choice  of  their 
actions.  It  is  the  "universal  destruction,"  it  is  the 
madness  of  the  apres  nous  le  deluge! 

The  position  of  the  Jews,  radically  changed  after 
the  revolution  of  the  spring  of  1917,  which  gave  them 
equal  rights  with  the  rest  of  the  population  of  Russian 
origin  and  religion,  has  had  its  triumph  in  the  recent 
manifestations  of  Bolshevism.  In  fact,  besides  Trot- 
zky,  whose  real  name  is  Braunstein,  there  is  a  high 
percentage  of  Jews  among  the  mob  leaders  and  dic- 
tators of  the  "soviet"  (councils)  by  which  every  city 
is  administered,  forming  in  this  way  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  "small  social  republics"  in  every  part  of  the 
vast  Russian  territory. 

The  words  of  one  of  the  most  profound  connoisseurs 
of  the  Russian  soul,  Dostoievsky,  words  which,  alas, 
are  prophetic  not  only  of  the  concrete  facts,  but  also 
of  the  general  dangers  which  threaten  his  country, 
portray  the  condition  that  has  come  to  pass. 

"Our  people,  in  the  immense  majority,  adapt 
themselves  cheerfully  to  the  hardest  discipline,  and 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  225 

it  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  drag  them  toward 
the  most  noble  deeds  or  toward  the  most  ignoble 
crimes.  I  tremble  to  think  of  what  these  good  people 
are  capable  of  doing  if  they  are  left,  even  for  a  moment, 
without  discipline.  Alas,  side  by  side  with  them 
there  are  always  some  evil  spirits,  full  of  envy,  thirsty 
of  power,  with  their  soul  filled  with  selfish  passions 
and  bad  instincts;  it  is  they  who  always  exercise  a 
mysterious  and  nefarious  influence  on  the  Russian 
mobs.  I  had  a  striking  example  of  this  when  the  whole 
population  of  a  prison,  about  four  thousand  persons, 
was  supinely  submitting  to  the  will  of  one  of  these 
demons  who  took  advantage  of  them.  Nobody  dared 
to  murmur.  The  Russian  needs  an  idol;  he  feels 
the  need  of  bending,  of  being  guided,  of  obeying. 
Free  the  Russian  people  of  a  leading  power  which  they 
willingly  followed  and  they  will  immediately  create 
for  themselves  another  dominator  more  obnoxious 
and  nefarious.  Let  God  preserve  us  when  the  crowd 
of  the  weak  ones  will  follow  under  the  power  of  the 
wicked  ones.  What  a  horrible  spectacle  we  shall  wit- 
ness then !  What  atrocities !  What  useless  slaughter ! 
We  shall  see  the  country  and  religion  betrayed;  we 
shall  see  Russia  fall  the  prey  to  external  enemies;  we 
shall  see  material  servitude,  the  loss  of  all  our  acquisi- 
tions, the  oblivion  of  all  the  affections.  Let  God  save 
me  from  seeing  this  turning-point  in  Russian  history !" 

God  saved  him,  but  this  mercy  was  not  extended 
to  us.  We  shall  have  to  be  witness  of  Russia  groan- 
ing under  the  system  of  bloodless  terror,  but  it  will 
not  be  for  long.  In  theory  the  Bolsheviks  desire  the 
same  thing  as  the  Socialists;  in  practice  they  want  it 
plus  revenge,  that  which  has  been  the  motivating  char- 
acteristic of  the  Jew  since  time  immemorial.  Their 
power  is  founded  in  resources  which  I  suspect  are 
largely  in  America,  and  their  agents  have  been  granted 


226  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

citizenship  and  protection  in  practically  every  country 
of  the  world.  So  soon  as  the  motives  of  their  sup- 
porters then  shall  be  widely  known,  and  so  soon  as 
their  monstrous  practices  shall  be  revealed  to  the 
whole  world,  this  malignant  exuberance  that  has  de- 
veloped upon  the  healthy  growth  of  Liberalism  and 
Socialism  will  be  removed  by  a  giant  cautery  wielded 
in  a  hand  more  powerful  than  that  of  Hercules. 

A  decree  recently  issued  by  the  Bolsheviks  of  Vladi- 
mir, published  in  that  official  Soviet  organ  Izvestija, 
and  now  beginning  to  be  widely  published  by  European 
papers,  will  be  relished  by  many  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  where 
unquestionably  the  Bolsheviks  have  largely  been 
financed. 

''Every  girl  who  has  reached  her  eighteenth  year  is 
guaranteed  by  the  local  Commissary  of  Surveillance 
the  full  inviolability  of  her  person. 

"Any  offender  against  an  eighteen-year-old  girl  by 
using  insulting  language  or  attempting  to  ravish  her 
is  subject  to  the  full  rigors  of  the  Revolutionary  Tri- 
bunal. 

"Any  one  who  has  ravished  a  girl  who  has  not 
reached  her  eighteenth  year  is  considered  a  state 
criminal,  and  is  liable  to  a  sentence  of  twenty  years' 
hard  labor  unless  he  marries  the  injured  one. 

"The  injured,  dishonored  girl  is  given  the  right  not 
to  marry  the  ravisher  if  she  does  not  so  desire. 

"A  girl  having  reached  her  eighteenth  year  is  to  be 
announced  as  the  property  of  the  state. 

"Any  girl  having  reached  her  eighteenth  year 
and  not  married  is  obliged,  subject  to  the  most  severe 
penalty,  to  register  at  the  Bureau  of  Free  Love  in  the 
Commissariat  of  Surveillance. 

"Having  registered  at  the  Bureau  of  Free  Love, 
she  has  the  right  to  choose  from  among  men  between 
the  ages  of  nineteen  and  fifty  a  cohabitant-husband. 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  227 

" Remarks:  (1)  The  consent  of  the  man  in  the  said 
choice  is  unnecessary;  (2)  the  man  on  whom  such  a 
choice  falls  has  no  right  to  make  any  protest  what- 
soever against  the  infringement. 

"The  right  to  choose  from  a  number  of  girls  who 
have  reached  their  eighteenth  year  is  given  also  to  men. 

"The  opportunity  to  choose  a  husband  or  a  wife  is 
to  be  presented  once  a  month. 

"The  Bureau  of  Love  is  autonomous. 

"Men  between  the  ages  of  nineteen  and  fifty  have 
the  right  to  choose  from  among  the  registered  women, 
even  without  the  consent  of  the  latter,  in  the  interests 
of  the  state. 

"Children  who  are  the  issue  of  these  unions  are  to 
become  the  property  of  the  state." 

The  "decree"  states  further  that  it  has  been  based 
on  the  excellent  "example"  of  similar  decrees  already 
issued  at  Luga,  Kolpin,  and  elsewhere. 

A  similar  "Project  of  Provisional  Rights  in  Connec- 
tion with  the  Socialization  of  Women  in  the  City  of 
Hvolinsk  and  Vicinity"  was  published  in  the  Local 
Gazette  of  the  Workers*  and  Soldiers'  Deputies. 

I  am  not  sure  that  this  lurid  conduct  of  the 
Bolsheviks  will  do  the  cause  of  social  reconstruction 
harm.  I  recall  the  conduct  of  the  promoters  of 
woman-suffrage  in  England  in  the  few  years  preced- 
ing 1914.  Their  campaign  seemed  to  be  founded  in 
insanity,  and  yet  something  of  the  kind  was  neces- 
sary to  concentrate  the  world's  attention  on  their 
rights,  and  the  Bolsheviks  have  got  the  world's  atten- 
tion and  thought  to-day — and  will  have  them  to- 
morrow. 

Socialism  is  adverse  to  imperialism  and  capitalism. 
Imperialism  has  been  conquered,  but  capitalism  has 


228  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

not  yet  been  throttled.  One  will  be  able  more  safely 
to  prophesy  how  much  it  has  been  weakened,  poten- 
tially and  actually,  after  labor  has  had  its  next  chance 
at  the  bat  in  Great  Britain.  This  war  was  not  under- 
taken to  overcome  capitalism.  It  was  undertaken  to 
overcome  imperialism  and  the  tyranny  of  foreign 
domination,  but  its  success  has  been  dependent  upon 
the  people,  who  will  now  assert  their  rights,  and  the 
most  fundamental  of  their  rights  is  that  they  shall 
not  be  oppressed  by  money.  It  is  not  sufficient  that 
the  principles  of  nationality  defined  by  Mazzini  shall 
be  upheld — that  is,  that  the  peoples  of  one  nationality 
shall  not  be  dominated  by  the  peoples  of  another.  It 
is  necessary,  if  such  peoples  are  going  to  live  in  free- 
dom, that  they  must  not  be  dominated  or  enslaved 
by  any  mastodonic  power  which  is  protected  from  at- 
tack, such  as  capital.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  de- 
termination of  the  people  to  have  the  right  to  live  in 
freedom,  the  miracle  that  transpired  in  the  closing 
months  of  1918  in  Europe  would  not  have  been 
wrought.  The  factors  that  sustained  the  peoples  of 
the  conquering  nations  in  these  long,  dark  months 
of  tragedy  and  of  carnage,  the  thing  that  made  them 
go  on  stubbornly  and  steadfastly  with  the  war  when 
the  odds  seemed  to  be  all  against  them,  may  be  sum- 
marized in  one  sentence:  " Their  determination  to 
have  their  inalienable  right,  the  right  to  live  in  free- 
dom." One  may  perhaps  say  that  in  different  coun- 
tries of  the  world  they  have  had  such  right,  but  the 
person  who  says  this  would  have  great  difficulty  in 
naming  the  country.  Any  one  who  contended  that  in 
republics  such  as  ours  capital  has  not  been  privileged 
and  arbitrary,  that  it  has  not  been  the  dominant  fac- 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  229 

tor  in  making  and  adopting  the  laws  to  which  the  people 
are  beholden,  would  be  laughed  at  by  any  sane  man. 

And  now  that  the  people  who  have  lived  and  died, 
toiled  and  wrought,  suffered  and  supplicated  through 
fifty-two  months  of  agony  have  won,  there  will  arise 
from  those  who  have  survived  a  dominant  chorus 
which  will  insist  upon  the  fulfilment  of  the  promises 
that  were  made  them  to  incite  them  to  victory.  Their 
hopes  and  desires  and  aspirations  must  be  satisfied.  I 
am  one  of  those  who  believe  that  they  will  make  their 
demands  orderly  and  insistently,  and  not  by  means  of 
revolution  or  serious  disturbance  of  order.  They  will 
work  out  their  salvation  by  mutual  co-operation,  not 
only  amongst  themselves  but  with  those  who  are  the 
leaders  of  the  world's  thought,  many  of  whom  have 
been  heretofore  of  the  privileged  classes,  but  they  will 
insist  upon  certain  fundamental  things  which  I  have 
previously  enumerated,  and  the  foremost  of  which  is 
the  dispersion  of  great  wealth,  particularly  hereditary 
wealth.  The  revolutionary  Socialist  sees  an  easy  solu- 
tion of  the  matter  in  the  giving  of  the  wealth  to  the 
masses  and  of  recognizing  no  other  source  of  wealth 
except  labor,  but  that  is  not  the  kind  of  Socialist  who 
will  have  to  do  with  the  reordering  of  the  world  that 
is  now  being  born.  It  is  the  Socialist  who  is  to-day 
frequently  called  the  individualist,  who  believes  that 
the  dissipation  of  individual  property  and  initiative 
will  spell  a  greater  ruin  for  the  masses  than  for  the 
individual  and  who  believes  in  harmonizing  the  prin- 
ciples of  individual  liberty  with  those  of  solidarity,  who 
will  be  the  Socialist  of  the  New  Era. 

The  future  state  will  be  arbitrary  only  in  so  far  as 
it  is  the  expression  of  the  collected,  united  force  of  its 


230  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

citizens.  They  will  really  make  its  laws,  not  have 
them  made  for  them  by  capital  or  privileged  interests; 
they  will  enforce  them  impartially,  and  it  is  devoutly 
to  be  hoped  the  external  force  of  such  peoples  will  be 
conventionized  in  such  a  way  with  other  peoples  that 
armies  and  navies  will  practically  cease  to  exist.  The 
basis  of  such  hope  is  in  the  League  of  Nations,  for  then 
we  shall  have  a  world-state  which  shall  make  inter- 
national law  or  convention  subject  to  law  and  enforce- 
ment. Once  the  fear  of  invasion  of  a  country  is  over- 
come and  once  the  principles  of  nationality  can  be 
established  and  put  into  operation,  there  will  be  no 
reason  for  the  existence  of  armies  and  navies. 

The  beneficences  subsumed  under  the  name  liberty 
that  must  flow  from  the  sacrifices  that  we  have  made 
for  the  welfare  of  the  people  must  assure  their  health, 
contribute  to  their  happiness,  and  promote  their  effi- 
ciency. Disease  must  be  prevented,  not  by  personal 
effort  as  on  the  part  of  physicians  who  do  it  for  gain 
or  fame,  but  by  the  state,  which  shall  devote  adequate 
sums  for  research,  investigation,  propaganda,  and  en- 
forcement of  the  principles  of  sanitation.  It  shall  like- 
wise devote  adequate  sums  for  the  education  of  all  the 
people  and  thrust  such  education  upon  them  in  order 
that  they  may  make  use,  not  only  for  themselves  but 
for  the  state,  of  the  talents  with  which  they  have  been 
endowed,  so  that  liberty  and  personal  initiative  may 
be  made  running  mates,  and  no  closely  knit  organ- 
ization as  the  church  shall  be  permitted  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  such  education.  It  shall  permit  them  to 
worship  God  as  they,  educated,  see  fit  and  proper,  and 
it  shall  not  attempt,  or  tolerate  the  attempt  of  others, 
to  thrust  a  religion  founded  in  authority  upon  them, 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  231 

non-conformation  to  which  is  followed  by  punishment, 
often  in  condign  form,  such  as  social  ostracism,  refusal 
of  the  ministration  of  paid  priests,  refusal  of  burial  in 
consecrated  grounds,  or  threat  of  punishment.  It 
shall  not  enforce  upon  them  a  conduct  at  variance  with 
the  laws  of  nature  in  sex  relations;  therefore,  it  shall 
solve  the  marriage  and  population  questions,  or  at 
least  make  an  attempt  to  do  so.  It  shall  give  the 
same  freedom  to  woman  as  it  does  to  man  and  not 
have  one  written  or  unwritten  law  for  the  former  and 
another  for  the  latter.  It  shall  replace  our  present 
economic  system  by  a  better  one;  in  other  words, 
money  must  be  given  a  new  valuation. 

When  everything  has  been  said,  the  state  is  the 
thing.  What  constitutes  a  state  or  a  nation?  We 
know  what  has  constituted  it  in  the  past,  but  when 
we  read  history  we  realize  that  it  has  never  been 
stable,  always  has  been  in  transformation.  Some  have 
been  more  stable  than  others — England  more  than 
Italy,  France  more  than  Austria,  the  United  States 
more  than  France.  When  a  nation  does  not  change  it 
is  dead  like  Spain,  strangled  by  the  parasite,  arbitrary 
authority,  the  church. 

A  new  order  of  state-formation  is  about  to  be 
instituted — that  of  nationalism.  Comparatively  few 
people  appreciate  what  is  meant  by  nationalism.  Un- 
til the  wide-spread  discussion  of  the  aspirations  of  the 
Czecho-Slovaks  in  America,  I  doubt  whether  any  one, 
except  students  of  history  and  statesmen,  gave  any 
attention  to  it  whatsoever.  And  yet,  despite  this, 
no  one  has  elaborated  the  fundamental  facts  of  na- 
tionality as  clearly  as  has  President  Wilson.  Nearly  a 
third  of  all  the  peoples  of  Europe  have  been  obliged  to 


232  IDLING   IN   ITALY 

submit  to  governments  to  which  they  were  antipathic 
by  birth,  sympathy,  or  tradition.  In  other  words, 
Italians  living  beyond  a  certain  arbitrary  geographic 
line  have  been  obliged  to  subscribe  to  the  laws  of 
Austria;  French  living  beyond  a  certain  geographic  line 
have  been  obliged  to  subscribe  to  the  laws  of  Ger- 
many; Slavs  to  those  of  Hungary.  Patriotism,  that 
indefinable  quality  made  up  of  primitive  instincts,  in- 
tellectual convictions,  and  religious  feeling,  which  is 
supposed  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  the  virtues,  has  been 
an  artifice  for  a  third  of  all  the  peoples  of  the  European 
continent.  If  they  were  really  patriotic,  their  hearts 
and  minds  were  with  their  mother  countries,  and  there- 
fore their  conduct  toward  the  ruler  to  which  they 
bowed  the  knee  must  have  been  that  of  the  hypocrite. 
One  of  the  things  on  which  all  the  Allied  nations  are 
agreed  is  that  in  the  remaking  of  the  map  of  Europe 
every  man  shall  be  free  to  elect  his  nationality  and 
that  no  one  shall  be  coerced  to  be  a  citizen  of  another 
nation.  He  may  elect  to  be  a  citizen  of  another  na- 
tion, but  that  is  his  concern. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  there  will  be  very 
great  difficulty  in  rearranging  the  map  of  Europe  sat- 
isfactorily in  order  that  this  principle  of  nationality 
may  be  fulfilled,  and  nowhere  will  it  be  so  difficult  as 
in  Italy.  The  agreement  of  Italy  with  the  Allies  pre- 
vious to  her  entering  the  war,  and  which  is  known  as 
the  Pact  of  London,  gave  her,  in  event  of  victory, 
large  sections  of  the  Dalmatian  coast  of  which  she  has 
great  need  in  order  to  facilitate  the  development  of 
her  commerce  and  to  provide  her  with  certain  essen- 
tials which  her  territory  does  not  furnish.  This  Dal- 
matian coast  and  the  territory  contiguous  to  it  to 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  233 

the  east — Istria,  Croatia,  Bosnia,  and  Herzegovina — 
are  not  populated  by  Italians  to  any  considerable  ex- 
tent. As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  vast  majority  of  the 
people  are  Slavs,  and  it  is  this  country  which  many 
people  believe  and  hope  will  eventually  become  Jugo- 
slavia. There  is  no  doubt  whatsoever  that  Italy  will 
get  all  her  unredeemed  territory,  but  whether  or  not 
she  will  get  much  more  than  that  on  the  continent  of 
Europe  is  doubtful  in  the  minds  of  many,  including 
her  well-wishers. 

The  question  of  nationality  is  not  going  to  be  an 
easy  one  for  Austria-Hungary  to  settle.  In  reality, 
German-Austria  constitutes  an  important  hinge  upon 
which  all  the  problems  that  are  connected  with  the 
reconstruction  of  Central  Europe  swing.  Aside  from 
the  Czecho-Slovak  nation,  which  is  Bohemia  and  the 
territories  that  were  lopped  off  from  it  previous  to  the 
time  when  it  was  absorbed  by  Austria-Germany,  the 
smaller  nations  that  have  come  to  the  surface  and 
have  been  differentiated  in  this  waterspout  that  has 
disturbed  the  waters  of  the  Austro-Hungarian  Em- 
pire will  have  to  wait  a  long  time  for  their  rights  and 
differentiation,  but  the  status  of  German  Austria  will 
have  to  be  settled  very  promptly.  It  has  been  said 
repeatedly  in  the  newspapers  that  these  people  have 
expressed  a  desire  to  unite  themselves  with  a  German 
confederation,  probably  Bavaria.  A  great  many  peo- 
ple see  in  this  accession  to  Germany  of  ten  or  twelve 
millions  of  people  a  potential  menace  in  so  far  as  this 
added  number  might  make  for  a  disturbance  of  the 
equilibrium  of  power.  But  one  cannot  say  whether 
or  not  this  fear  is  groundless  until  we  see  what  form 
of  government  Prussia  and  Bavaria  and  the  other 


234  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

states  of  Germany  are  eventually  going  to  have.  If 
the  principles  of  nationality  are  not  going  to  be  inval- 
idated by  any  future  settlements,  the  Germans  of  Aus- 
tria would  have  only  two  choices — to  constitute  an 
independent  government  of  their  own  or  to  link  them- 
selves with  one  of  the  Prussian  states.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  is  most  unlikely  that  the  Allies  will  attempt 
to  give  them  any  advice  in  this  matter,  which  means 
they  will  not  attempt  to  direct  or  coerce  them. 

France  may  not  have  an  easy  time  with  Alsace-Lor- 
raine. In  the  two  generations  that  have  elapsed  since 
Germany  took  them,  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  many 
of  their  people  have  become  a  part  of  the  national 
consciousness  of  that  country.  The  just  way  would 
be  to  let  the  adults  of  Alsace-Lorraine  decide  at  the 
end  of  another  forty-eight  years,  during  which  time  it 
is  united  to  France,  by  universal  vote  of  its  adults, 
men  and  women,  whether  they  want  to  have  French 
or  German  nationality.  I  should  think  France  would 
be  taking  no  risks  in  such  a  plebiscite. 

England  will  have  Ireland  to  deal  with  after  the 
war  even  more  than  before  the  war.  There  is  only 
one  way  that  she  can  do  it  successfully  and  that  is  on 
the  principles  of  nationality.  The  Irish  are  no  more 
like  the  English  than  the  Czechs  are  like  the  Austrians; 
in  fact,  they  are  less  so.  They  are  different  emotion- 
ally, intellectually,  morally,  and  physically,  and  Eng- 
land will  not  much  longer  be  allowed  to  coerce  them. 
Her  one  privilege  in  Ireland  is  to  force  universal  edu- 
cation upon  her  people.  If  this  had  been  done  before, 
England  would  have  long  ere  this  brought  about  that 
instinctive  liking  and  common  purpose  which  is  the 
basis  of  all  sound  union,  whether  it  be  between  in- 
dividuals  or  between  components  of  a  nation. 


WORLD  CONVALESCENCE  235 

Italy's  chief  difficulty  is  going  to  be  with  the  Jugo- 
slavs, as  the  southern  Slavs  are  called,  and  already 
these  difficulties  have  begun.  The  southern  Slavs 
have  not,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  formulated  a  definite 
programme,  and  they  were  never  recognized  as  bel- 
ligerent allies  by  the  Entente.  Italy  had  a  hesitating 
recognition  of  southern  Slav  aspirations  forced  from 
her,  but  there  is  no  trust  or  confidence  reposed  in 
the  Slavs  by  the  Italians.  The  Croatians,  the  Bos- 
nians, the  Montenegrins,  the  Albanians  do  not  know 
what  they  want,  save  change,  and  that  they  have 
wanted  since  time  immemorial.  They  have  no  specific 
programme  and  there  is  no  definite  interlacement  of 
their  desires  with  Serbia.  So  far  as  their  plans  can  be 
gleaned,  realization  of  them,  even  in  the  most  funda- 
mental one  of  establishing  a  plebiscitary  area,  would 
find  itself  in  violent  conflict  with  Italy's  pre-bellum 
agreement  with  the  Allies  known  as  the  Treaty  of 
London. 

All  things  come  to  him  who  waits.  If  while  waiting 
things  do  not  come  to  us  that  make  life  forever  after 
unlivable,  we  shall  be  fortunate,  and  forever  grateful. 

November,  1918. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES 

I  marvel  how  men  in  public  life  stand  banquets, 
especially  Italians,  who  take  to  them  like  babes  to 
mothers'  milk.  I  fancy  they  often  long  for  a  succulent 
chop  and  a  baked  potato,  with  a  tray  for  mahogany 
and  a  book  for  company!  But  the  banchetto  gives 
them  an  alluring  arena  for  oratory,  and  my  deliberate 
conviction  is  that  the  Italian  has  more  pleasure  in 
speaking  than  in  any  other  voluntary  act.  Not  only 
does  he  like  to  talk,  but  he  likes  to  be  talked  to.  The 
Italian  language  lends  itself  to  sonorous  oratory,  and 
one  can  become  more  impassioned  while  delivering 
himself  of  simple  thought  and  plain  sentiment  in  it 
than  in  any  other  tongue.  Rome  has  always  been  the 
city  of  pilgrims.  Formerly  they  came  in  pursuit  of 
the  salvation  of  their  souls;  now  they  come  to  help 
make  the  world  safe  for  liberty.  Missions,  delegations, 
committees,  distinguished  personages  with  their  trains 
come  nearly  every  day  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and 
to  each  is  given  a  banquet,  to  some  many  banquets. 

A  diverting  one  was  a  luncheon  given  to  a  delega- 
tion of  the  Japanese  Red  Cross  headed  by  Prince 
Tokugawa.  There  were  many  distinguished  person- 
ages present,  including  the  Premier  Orlando,  the 
minister  of  war,  the  minister  of  the  navy,  Duke  Tor- 
Ionia,  the  directors-general  of  public  health  and  of 
military  health,  and  other  exalted  or  celebrated  per- 
sonages "too  numerous  to  mention."    It  was  a  pleas- 

236 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      237 

ant  party.  The  Japs  interested  me  very  much. 
They  looked  less  Oriental,  if  that  means  anything, 
than  their  fellows  with  whom  I  have  come  in  contact. 
I  fancy  this  is  due  partly  to  the  fact  that  they  were  in 
uniform  not  unlike  that  of  American  officers,  and  also 
they  seemed  bigger,  that  is — of  greater  stature — and 
more  deliberate  and  suave  than  many  that  I  had  pre- 
viously met.  I  talked  to  the  Prince  and  found  him 
intelligent  and  communicative,  without  sign  or  dis- 
play of  royal  prerogative.  Professor  Seigami  Sawa- 
mura,  who  sat  on  my  left  at  lunch,  is  a  lawyer  who 
seemed  to  have  about  the  same  point  of  view  on  ordi- 
nary topics  that  a  well-educated,  cultured  man  of  his 
profession  in  America  might  have.    The  man  on  my 

right  was ,  who  spoke  English  perfectly,  and  whom 

I  discovered,  after  a  small  attempt  to  draw  him  out 
on  the  political  situation,  to  be  an  adherent  of  Sonnino, 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  of  his  entourage.  He 
seemed  to  be  as  devoid  of  capacity  for  constructive 
thought  as  any  educated  Italian  of  thirty-five  or  forty 
in  political  life  that  I  have  ever  met,  or  perhaps  it  was 
that  he  had  a  wonderful  facility  for  concealing  it. 
His  small  talk,  however,  was  quite  perfect,  and  I 
can  imagine  that  he  might  have  radiated  considerable 
luminosity  in  a  properly  selected  salon. 

The  speeches  of  the  visitors  and  of  the  Japanese 
Ambassador  to  Italy  were  most  diverting.  I  have 
never  been  so  entertained  and  instructed  by  oratory 
of  which  I  didn't  understand  a  word.  After  the 
speeches  were  delivered  they  were  put  into  excellent 
Italian  by  a  young  attache*  of  the  Italian  embassy  who 
must  have  spent  many  years  away  from  his  native 
sunny  Italy  in  order  to  get  the  mastery  of  the  Orien- 


238  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tal  language  that  he  displayed.  Banquet  speeches  are, 
as  a  rule,  a  series  of  platitudes  in  ornate  dress,  inter- 
spersed with  sentiment  and  expressions  of  appreciation 
and  praise  phrased  diplomatically.  These  speeches 
had  those  qualities — all  save  that  of  the  Japanese  Am- 
bassador. His  remarks  had  been  carefully  prepared 
and  were  read.  Undoubtedly  they  had  been  submitted 
to  the  Mikado  or  his  advisers  before  they  were  put 
before  us,  for  they  stated  the  position  of  his  govern- 
ment relative  to  the  war,  narrated  their  reason  for 
participation  in  its  activities,  and  made  statement  of 
their  determination  to  have  the  efforts  of  the  Allies 
crowned  with  success. 

The  Italian  premier,  Orlando,  replied.  He  is  a  real 
orator.  Even  below  the  stature  of  the  average  Italian 
of  the  South,  the  large,  shapely,  and  well-poised  head, 
surmounted  with  thick,  closely  cropped  gray  hair 
brushed  pompadour,  the  sparkling  eyes,  ruddy  face, 
and  genial  expression  give  you  at  once  the  feeling 
that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  a  man  of  power,  of  re- 
sourcefulness, and  of  facility.  No  one  could  mistake 
that  he  is  a  man  of  the  people.  There  is  no  trace  of 
arrogance  or  of  self-exaltation,  and  when  he  speaks 
you  feel  that  his  words  are  fountained  from  sincerity. 
His  remarks  gave  evidence  of  research  and  careful 
preparation.  After  having  pointed  out  the  pleasant 
relations  that  had  always  existed  between  Italy  and 
Japan  and  the  present  intimate  solidarity,  he  cited 
some  historic  instances  which  bind  the  nations  in 
amity.  It  was  a  forebear  of  the  Prince  Tokugawa,  the 
Shogun  Yasu  Tokugawa,  who  in  1613  permitted  a 
Western  ship  to  land  in  Japan,  and  who  facilitated 
the  advent  of  the  first  Japanese  ambassador  to  Rome. 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      239 

The  visitors  were  apparently  very  much  pleased  with 
his  remarks,  as  he  intended  they  should  be.  There 
was  nothing  said  that  seemed  to  indicate  that  there 
was  any  general  adhesion  to  the  belief  that  if  the 
Allies  won  the  war  England  would  become  the  vassal 
of  America,  or  of  the  yellow  people  of  the  extreme 
Orient,  such  as  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung  has  recently 
said  would  probably  be  the  case. 

All  of  the  visitors  with  whom  I  spoke  were  loud, 
and  seemingly  sincere,  in  praise  of  the  treatment  they 
had  had  at  the  hands  of  the  Americans  during  their 
visit  there,  and  I  gathered  that  there  exists  at  the 
present  time  between  America  and  Japan  a  more  gen- 
eralized sentiment  of  trustfulness  than  existed  before 
the  war.  At  least,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Jap  loses 
no  opportunity  to  say  "nice  things"  of  our  country. 

A  benefit  that  flows  from  such  a  gathering  is  the 
opportunity  it  gives  to  see,  in  their  hour  of  semi- 
relaxation  and  at  short  range,  some  of  those  who  are 
helping  to  make  history  in  this  country  and  whose 
names  one  sees  every  day  in  the  newspapers.  The 
first  impression  that  one  gets  is  that  they  are  sub- 
stantial, serious,  intelligent,  earnest,  alert  in  their 
appearance,  manner,  and  conduct,  sincere  in  their 
efforts,  and  unalterable  in  their  determination.  I  fancy 
that  they  compare  favorably  with  a  similar  group  of 
any  nationality.  Though  perhaps  you  are  disap- 
pointed in  finding  that  none  of  them  bears  any  par- 
ticular outward  manifestations  of  genius,  if  there  be 
such  thing,  yet  you  have  no  misgivings  that  they  are 
individuals  capable  of  constructive  thought  and  mature 
deliberation,  self-reliant,  and  confident. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  a  midday  banquet  tendered 


240  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Melville  E.  Stone,  the  general  manager  of  the  Associ- 
ated Press,  by  the  newspaper  men  of  Rome.  It  was 
a  very  different  gathering.  Newspaper  men  have  a 
make-up,  a  physiognomy,  a  general  appearance,  more 
or  less  founded  in  what  may  be  called  personal  neglect, 
that  is,  an  insensitiveness  to  personal  aesthetics,  which 
is  quite  characteristic.  One  can't  pick  a  newspaper 
man  from  a  crowd  with  the  same  readiness  and  accu- 
racy that  he  picks  a  monk  or  an  actor,  but  the  major- 
ity of  journalists  become  hall-marked  after  they  have 
plied  their  vocation  for  any  considerable  length  of 
time.  I  was  impressed  with  the  appearance  of  intel- 
ligence and  seriousness  of  the  men  of  the  Italian  press. 
Few  of  them  bore  the  somatic  signs  of  intimacy  with 
Mr.  Barleycorn.  The  company  had  a  fair  sprinkling 
of  ministers,  including  Nitti  and  Gallenga,  deputies, 
and  ex-ministers,  but  as  far  as  I  could  see  there  were 
no  dukes  or  princes.  The  latter  are  ornamental  and 
not  infrequently  pleasing  to  look  upon,  but  a  gather- 
ing of  newspaper  men  is  redolent  of  democracy,  which 
is  antipathic  to  princely  presence.  We  lunched  at  the 
restaurant  in  the  Borghese  Gardens.  It  was  a  much 
simpler  affair  than  the  banquet  tendered  the  Japs  at 
the  Grand  Hotel,  but  it  was  an  ample,  edible  lunch, 
and  you  had  the  feeling  that  we  had  foregathered  to 
honor  one  who  was  deserving. 

When  one  attempts  to  describe  Mr.  Stone  he  is 
tempted  at  once  to  say  he  is  a  typical  Americrn. 
But  what  is  a  typical  American?  There  are  so  many 
types.  William  Jennings  Bryan  is  a  typical  American. 
So  is  Henry  Cabot  Lodge.  Benjamin  Franklin  was  a 
typical  American,  yet  he  fraternized  with  dukes  and 
flirted    with    duchesses,    the    sheer    embodiment    of 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      241 

suaviter  in  modo  and  fortiter  in  re.  While  successfully 
putting  America  on  the  map  and  advancing  the  human- 
ities generally,  he  immortalized  himself  and  affectioned 
the  French  people.  Abraham  Lincoln,  we  like  to  think, 
was  a  typical  American,  but  were  one  to  encounter 
him  incog,  in  ceremonial  circles,  political  or  social,  in 
Europe  to-day,  ninety-nine  Americans  out  of  a  hun- 
dred would  deny  him.  Uncle  Sam  is  supposed  to  de- 
pict the  somatic  make-up  of  the  typical  Yankee,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  convey  the  idea  that  he  is  a  man 
to  be  reckoned  with  emotionally  and  intellectually  at 
all  times,  in  his  moments  of  relaxation  and  in  his 
hours  of  activity.  Nevertheless  the  average  person 
has  something  fairly  specific  in  mind  when  he  says, 
"He  is  a  typical  American. "  He  means  a  man  who 
displays  and  who  often  can't  conceal  a  determination 
to  put  through  that  which  he  has  planned;  who  is  self- 
confident,  opinionated,  a  stranger  to  ceremony  and 
oftentimes  unfamiliar  with  ordinary  social  amenities; 
who  is  fully  appreciative  of  the  accomplishments  and 
potentialities  of  his  country  and  its  institutions,  and 
who  doesn't  hesitate  to  contrast  them  with  those  of 
other  countries,  often  to  their  disparagement;  who 
speaks  only  one  language,  American,  and  that  not  al- 
ways either  grammatically  or  elegantly;  who  is  often 
a  stranger  to  culture  and  the  last  person  in  the  world 
to  find  it  out;  whose  dress  is  that  of  a  farmer  or  a 
fashion-plate,  and  who  has  bizarre  tastes  for  food  and 
drink — cocktails  and  ice-water  bulk  large  in  his  neces- 
sities, and  he  despises  Continental  breakfasts;  who  is 
attracted  by  the  treasures  of  art  and  moved  by  the 
beauties  of  nature,  but  the  immediate  result  of  the 
emotion  is  to  enhance  the  value  of  something  similar 


242  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

in  his  own  country,  yet  when  he  treads  his  native 
heath  he  is  often  a  disparager  of  it,  its  possessions,  and 
its  institutions. 

Melville  E.  Stone  is  not  that  sort  of  typical  Ameri- 
can. His  record  is  not  unlike  that  of  thousands  of  his 
countrymen.  He  is  temperamentally  and  emotion- 
ally an  Irishman,  and  intellectually  and  physically  an 
American.  The  son  of  an  itinerant  Methodist  preacher 
who  forsook  the  cloth  for  commerce  during  the  Civil 
War,  and  was  thus  able  to  provide  for  the  maintenance 
and  education  of  his  children,  he  gives  you  the  impres- 
sion of  a  man  who  has  made  his  way  in  the  world,  and 
made  his  own  way.  Although  he  is  now  past  the  age 
allotted  to  man  by  the  Psalmist,  he  has  the  appear- 
ance and  conduct  of  a  man  easily  ten  years  younger. 
I  had  opportunity  of  observing  him  at  short  range  for 
three  or  four  days,  for  he  was  our  guest,  and  as  all 
the  other  members  of  our  household  were  away  I  saw 
more  of  him  than  I  otherwise  might.  He  is  a  man  of 
vast  information,  which  he  is  not  averse  to  sharing 
with  others,  and,  unlike  many  who  have  such  posses- 
sions, his  information  is  accurate.  This,  in  a  measure, 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  is  largely  personal.  As  the 
general  manager  and  general  motivator  of  the  greatest 
news-collecting  bureau  in  the  world,  he  is  constantly 
coming  in  contact  with  men  who  are  making  history, 
and  his  personality  is  so  ingratiating  that  they  allow 
him  a  personal  contact  which  in  many  instances  ap- 
parently reaches  intimacy.  Although  he  is  a  man  who 
talks  freely,  my  impression  is  that  he  is  not  indiscreet. 
In  addition  to  this,  he  has  been  a  studious  reader.  It 
was  interesting  to  find  that  he  is  a  bed  reader,  for  my 
belief  is  that  the  man  who  reads  attentively  in  bed 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      243 

has  an  impression  of  what  he  reads  made  upon  the 
memory  cells  of  his  brain  cortex  which  sleep  then 
stamps  with  permanency. 

I  gather  Mr.  Stone  had  very  little  schooling;  that 
is,  he  did  not  go  to  college.  As  a  boy  he  went  to 
school  in  the  winter  and  worked  in  the  summer  and 
during  other  vacations,  and  apparently  the  work  that 
he  did  most  willingly  was  newspaper  work.  He  be- 
came editor  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News  while  still  a 
very  young  man,  and  continued  in  that  important 
post  for  a  quarter  of  a  century.  He  acquired  the  art 
of  going  easily  and  successfully  to  men  in  political  life 
and  other  avenues  of  constructive  activity  while  in 
Chicago,  Washington,  and  the  capitals  of  Europe. 
The  thing  that  has  made  him  a  man  of  culture,  how- 
ever, is  an  inherent  desire  for  knowledge,  which,  he 
early  realized,  is  the  only  means  that  man  can  suc- 
cessfully employ  to  add  to  his  stature.  He  is  a  true 
Celt,  emotional,  sensitive,  tenacious  of  his  opinions, 
reliant  in  his  judgments,  a  hater  of  his  enemies,  and 
an  admirer  of  his  friends.  If  I  were  asked  to  enumerate 
his  most  distinctive  possession,  after  a  short  intimacy 
with  him  I  should  say  it  was  a  quality  which  we  speak 
of  as  justice.  When  he  brings  a  question  up  to  the 
threshold  of  his  consciousness  for  solution,  or  a  problem 
for  decision,  the  first  thing  that  he  considers  is  "Is  it 
just?"  After  that  its  feasibility  and  advisability  are 
discussed. 

The  representative  gathering  of  Italians  which 
greeted  him  at  lunch  were  prejudiced  in  his  favor. 
In  addition  to  that,  they  were  saturated  with  the  belief 
that  America  was  the  young  Lochinvar  who  came  out 
of  the  West  to  deliver  them  from  threatened  bondage. 


244  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

I  doubt  very  much  whether  any  one  in  America  to- 
day realizes  the  feeling  that  Italians  had  for  America, 
and  it  is  one  of  great  interest.  Until  the  advent  of 
America  into  the  war  Italians  practically  knew  nothing 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  save  that  it  was  a 
place  to  which  large  numbers  of  their  poorest  and  most 
ignorant  inhabitants  emigrated,  and  where  they  made 
money  which  enabled  them  to  return  to  their  native 
land,  or  to  maintain  their  families  or  dependents  dur- 
ing their  exile.  Of  the  history  of  America,  of  the  men 
who  made  that  history  and  who  are  making  it,  of  its 
institutions,  its  traditions,  its  accomplishments,  its 
potentialities  they  knew  practically  nothing.  Un- 
doubtedly there  are  many  who  would  not  accept  this 
statement  as  true,  but  I  am  convinced  that  it  is. 
Naturally  there  are  men  of  culture,  men  of  studious 
habits,  men  with  inclination  for  historic  reading  who 
are  exceptions  to  this  blanket  accusation.  I  was 
very  much  amused  last  winter,  when  dining  with  an 
admiral  of  the  navy  on  duty  at  Spezia,  by  the  inquiry 
whether  I  came  from  North  America  or  from  South 
America.  There  are  many  Italians  who  claim  to  be 
educated  who  make  very  little  differentiation  between 
the  two  continents,  and  I  have  never  yet  met  an  Italian, 
unless  he  was  a  bookish  man,  who  knew  anything  about 
our  literature.  In  my  own  profession  I  doubt  that 
there  are  a  half-dozen  men  in  America  whose  fame  has 
reached  Italy,  and  those  whose  names  are  familiar  are 
known  because  of  some  eponymic  association. 

I  could  cite  many  examples  to  show  not  only  the 
indifference  which  Italians  have  to  the  history  and 
literature  of  our  country  but  also  the  absence  of  any 
desire  to  know  about  them.    Then,  their  conceptions 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      245 

or  ideas  of  Americans  are  quite  extraordinary.  They 
got  them  from  tourists  whom  they  saw  overrunning 
their  country  en  prince  or  en  Cook,  and  made  up  their 
minds  that  they  were  a  type  of  uncivilized  Crcesus  or 
of  unaesthetic  barbarian.  They  saw  the  effete,  the  ef- 
feminate and  decadent,  or  the  semi-invalided  business 
man  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  overdressed  females 
whose  chief  interest  seemed  to  be  their  luggage  and 
the  sights;  and  they  saw  the  weary  and  wearisome 
gapers  constituting  the  " personally  conducted."  Then 
again,  the  Italian  is  no  great  traveller.  He  likes  his 
country,  he  is  content  with  it,  and,  although  he  rails 
against  his  government,  he  would  feel  that  a  large 
part  of  the  pleasure  of  life  was  taken  from  him  if  he 
were  not  permitted  to  discuss  critically,  and  often  dis- 
paragingly, what  are  commonly  called  politics.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  that  the  Italian  " fancies"  himself,  but 
neither  the  spirit  of  admiration  nor  of  emulation  dis- 
tinguishes him.  He  is  like  the  Roman  in  miniature. 
The  Roman  still  thinks  he  is  the  last  cry  of  God's 
handiwork  in  the  human  line. 

When  America  declared  war  on  Germany,  and  par- 
ticularly when  she  declared  war  on  Austria,  Italians 
quickly  got  interested  in  America;  and  when  they 
learned  that  America  came  so  generously  to  Italy's 
aid,  first,  in  supplying  the  money  for  the  conduct  of 
the  war,  and  then  in  supplying  the  material  needs  of 
her  people,  Italians  manifested  a  tremendous  interest 
in  us  and  in  our  country,  and  they  began  to  look  upon 
us  as  their  guide  and  their  savior.  I  never  heard  a 
disparaging  word  of  our  country  or  of  him  who  was 
directing  our  ship  of  state  until  after  the  Peace  Con- 
ference.   They  looked  upon  Woodrow  Wilson  as  a 


246  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

man  inspired.  There  were  times  during  the  war  when 
they  would  have  been  very  glad  if  America  had  ac- 
quiesced more  readily  and  more  whole-heartedly  in 
their  requests,  such  as  in  July,  1918,  when  they  be- 
lieved that  it  was  imperative  to  have  large  numbers 
of  American  troops  in  Italy.  But  at  the  same  time, 
when  their  wishes  were  not  met  and  their  requests 
not  granted,  they  did  not  sit  in  adverse  judgment  upon 
him  who  made  the  decision.  In  fact,  they  believed  he 
could  not  err. 

It  is  natural  that  they  should  have  been  concerned 
about  the  situation  that  existed  in  the  early  summer 
of  1918.  There  were  two  millions  of  American  troops 
in  Europe,  with  more  constantly  coming,  and  there 
were  only  a  very  small  number  in  Italy.  The  Italians 
saw  themselves  pitted  more  or  less  alone  against  a 
country,  Austria-Hungary,  which  had  an  army  nearly 
twice  as  large  as  theirs  and  which  was  more  rapacious 
than  a  hungry  wolf  goaded  into  renewed  ferocity  by 
recent  defeat.  They  sincerely  believed  that  if  they 
had  received  help  at  that  time  they  could  have  over- 
come their  hereditary  and  acquired  enemy  promptly, 
and  it  is  likely  that  they  could.  That  might  have  been 
a  reason  for  sending  American  troops  to  Italy,  but 
it  was  not  an  adequate  reason.  The  one  task  in  hand 
was  to  win  the  war,  to  win  it  expeditiously  and  to 
win  it  in  such  a  manner  that  would  put  Germany,  as 
she  was  constituted  and  as  she  had  been  constituted  for 
the  past  twenty-five  years,  out  of  existence;  that  is, 
to  exterminate  the  war  lords,  to  destroy  them  and  their 
influence.  The  man  or  men  who  were  permitted  to 
look  at  the  question  from  all  angles  were  far  better 
able  to  plan  how  this  should  be  done  than  the  coun- 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES 

cillors  of  one  nation  who  naturally  saw  the  question  only 
from  one  side,  that  is,  their  own  point  of  view. 

It  is  likely  also  that  the  Italians  constantly  reminded 
themselves  that  if  they  had  received  help  from  the 
Allies  early  in  1916  the  war  might  have  been  ended. 
I  have  heard  many  an  Italian  say  that  they  were  in  a 
position  then  to  overcome  the  Austrian  army  had  they 
received  such  help  and  that  with  the  simultaneous 
activity  of  the  Russians  on  the  eastern  front  they 
would  have  carried  the  Allied  arms  into  Vienna.  But 
you  do  not  grind  your  grist  more  satisfactorily  by  re- 
gretting that  the  waters  that  have  gone  over  the  mill 
were  not  used  more  efficaciously. 

I  have  wandered  far  afield  from  the  testimonial 
lunch  to  Mr.  Stone,  but  my  reflections  are  apropos  of 
the  remarks  which  the  Honorable  Nitti,  a  wizard  with 
figures  and  a  magician  with  men,  made.  Many  of  his 
countrymen  profess  to  distrust  him  and  to  say  that 
Giolitti  made  him  and  still  controls  him.  Nothing 
could  be  more  absurd.  Nitti  is  the  type  of  man  who 
is  made  by  his  endowment  and  by  his  environment. 
It  would  be  easier  to  think  of  any  other  public  man  in 
Italy  as  the  tool  of  a  dictator,  dethroned  or  enthroned, 
than  it  would  be  of  Nitti.  The  son  of  poor  parents 
who  sacrificed  everything  for  his  education,  he  has 
been  journalist,  author,  teacher,  economist,  professor, 
advocate,  and  statesman.  When  he  first  went  in  the 
House  he  sat  on  the  extreme  left,  and  gradually  he 
moved  up  toward  the  centre,  although  he  is  always 
inscribed  in  the  radical  party.  He  is  unquestionably 
of  formidable  brain  and  combines  a  will  of  iron  with  an 
audacity  that  has  the  appearance  at  least  of  tran- 
scending all  temerity. 


248  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

In  appearance  he  is  the  typical  middle-class  South 
Italian,  short,  rotund,  with  thick  neck  and  massive 
face  adorned  with  a  smile  that  rarely  comes  off.  He  is 
a  polished  orator  and  his  political  papers  read  like 
literary  documents.  He  is  reputed  to  be  a  master  of 
political  stage-setting.  Realizing  that  the  most  potent 
factor  iri  shaping  men's  judgment  is  the  press,  and 
realizing  that  the  man  who  has  his  fingers  on  the  key- 
board of  the  organ  that  makes  the  music  was  the 
honored  guest  of  the  occasion,  he  embraced  the  oppor- 
tunity to  put  before  Mr.  Stone  and  his  colleagues  his 
convictions  of  the  needs  of  Italy  and  his  hopes  that 
they  might  be  gratified.  I  am  sure  that  he  did  not 
say  publicly  anything  that  Mr.  Stone  had  not  already 
heard  in  private  audience,  for  the  doors  leading  to  the 
council  chambers  of  the  men  of  influence  in  this  coun- 
try swing  open  welcomingly  to  Mr.  Stone,  but  to  say 
them  in  his  presence  to  the  representative  press  of 
Italy  convinced  us  that  his  hopes  and  aspirations  in 
this  matter  were  the  expression  of  the  government, 
and  he  was  willing  and  wished  to  communicate  them 
to  the  public. 

The  other  speakers  were  entertaining  but  scarcely 
instructive.  One  doesn't  expect  inspired  sentiment  or 
statement  at  testimonial  banquets,  but  I  felt  that  the 
speakers  missed  an  opportunity  to  herald  the  democra- 
tization of  the  world  through  education  and  enlighten- 
ment via  the  press.  Many  nice  things  were  said  about 
Mr.  Stone,  but  I  confess  frankly  that  I  was  disap- 
pointed that  no  one  took  it  upon  himself  to  interpret 
his  accomplishments  or  to  dwell  upon  and  elaborate 
his  activities  and  accomplishments  symbolically.  If 
they  would  stop  telling  us  Germany's  motives  in  pre- 


BANQUETS  AND  PERSONALITIES      249 

cipitating  the  Great  War  and  give  us  instead  a  credo 
for  the  present  and  the  future,  it  would  be  a  relief.  I 
am  firmly  convinced  that  Germany  thrust  the  war 
upon  the  world  because  she  couldn't  inhibit  her  latent 
and  active  cruelty  which  possesses  and  has  possessed 
her  for  generations,  as  lust  possesses  the  satyric  man 
who,  when  he  becomes  intoxicated  or  unbalanced, 
throws  prudence,  precedent,  precept,  and  principles  to 
the  wind  and  gives  himself  and  his  possessions  to  the 
orgy.  The  Central  Powers  will  have  to  pay  the  full 
penalty  for  their  crimes,  even  though  they  deny  their 
guilt,  just  as  the  wilful  murderer  is  electrocuted,  even 
though  he  goes  to  the  chair  protesting  his  innocence. 

The  guest's  speech  was  felicitous.  He  dwelt  briefly 
on  Italy's  justification  for  entering  the  war  when  she 
did;  he  justly  evaluated  her  work  and  he  paid  a  de- 
serving tribute  to  her  resourcefulness  in  having  ex- 
tricated herself  from  the  horns  of  the  bull  after  the 
Caporetto  disaster.  He  brought  Columbus,  Mazzini, 
and  Garibaldi,  our  debt  to  them  and  their  inspiration 
for  us,  into  his  remarks  in  such  a  way  as  to  convince 
his  auditors  that  they  constitute  for  us  a  revered  Ital- 
ian trinity,  and  he  adequately  depicted  the  tender- 
ness and  affection  that  his  countrymen  have  for  Italy. 

It  takes  a  big  man,  using  that  word  in  one  of  its  con- 
ventional senses,  to  conduct  a  successful  publicity 
campaign.  In  the  first  place,  he  has  to  understand 
the  people  with  whom  he  works,  and  the  first  success- 
ful step  in  understanding  them  is  to  want  to  under- 
stand them.  If  he  has  preconceived  ideas  not  founded 
in  reliable  information  or  experience,  if  he  is  biassed 
and  hypercritical,  if  he  doesn't  know  how  to  elicit  tes- 
timony and  evaluate  evidence,  if  he  hasn't  habituated 


250  IDLING   IN  ITALY 

himself  to  look  at  events,  heralded  or  transpired,  from 
different  points  of  view,  if  he  isn't  animated  by  the 
spirit  of  service — that  is,  to  do  his  work  for  the  good  of 
the  cause — he  is  doomed  to  failure,  or  at  least  he  can  be 
only  partially  successful.  Then  again,  he  must  be  a 
man  who  worthily  represents  his  government  and  his 
people.  He  should  know  his  way  about.  He  should 
be  familiar  with  ordinary  social  amenities,  so  that  he 
may  go  easily  amongst  his  superiors  and  excite  their 
approbation,  and  he  must  have  the  capacity  to  bear 
true  witness  while  constantly  keeping  the  burnished 
side  of  his  shield  before  the  people  he  is  aiming  to  suc- 
cor and  orient.  There  are  few  ways  in  which  one  can 
be  of  more  service  to  his  country  than  by  making 
proper  propaganda  in  an  allied  country.  The  narrow- 
minded,  biassed,  obsessed  man  has  the  worst  possible 
equipment  for  such  position. 
Propaganda  is  the  priceless  privilege  of  the  press. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE 

It  is  a  long  time  now  that  the  belief  has  been  gen- 
erally accepted  that  God  made  man,  and,  contemplat- 
ing his  work,  realized  that  it  was  a  failure  for  the  pur- 
pose for  which  man  was  created.  He  then  made 
woman.  The  way  in  which  this  was  accomplished  is 
full  of  interest  to  the  artificer,  but  it  does  not  concern 
me,  whose  lifelong  study  has  been  of  the  finished 
species;  nor  does  the  object  of  the  creation  of  man, 
alluring  as  it  is,  tempt  me  to  digress  from  the  subject 
of  his  sentimental  endowment.  Soon  after  his  organ- 
ism was  endowed  with  sentient  possession,  man  was 
made  aware  that  he  had  imperious  desires  which  not 
only  demanded  satisfaction  but  which  insisted  upon 
being  satisfied.  It  pleased  the  Christian  church7  to 
enshroud  the  most  vital  of  these  God-given  desires  in 
the  mantle  of  sin,  save  when  its  appeasement  was  done 
in  conformity  with  the  restrictions  laid  upon  it  by  the 
church.  It  may  quite  well  be  that  such  restrictions 
were  founded  in  wisdom.  For  a  long  time  England 
maintained  that  it  was  right  to  restrict  the  franchise 
to  owners  of  property  of  a  certain  value,  and  for  many 
centuries  the  world  accepted  slavery  without  a  thought 
that  it  was  wrong.  Ruskin  spoke  truly  when  he  said : 
"The  basest  thought  about  man  is  that  he  has  no 
spiritual  nature,  and  the  foolishest  that  he  has  no 
animal  nature." 

251 


252  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

The  facts  around  which  these  remarks  are  spun  are 
first:  God  reproduced  his  image,  and,  finding  that  the 
image  was  incomplete  and  useless  for  the  purposes  for 
which  he  was  created,  he  made  him  whole,  as  it  were, 
by  creating  the  female;  and  second:  that  he  endowed 
man  and  woman  with  mental  and  emotional  qualities 
which  were  to  aid  them  in  living  their  lives  happily 
for  themselves,  usefully  for  others,  and  acceptably  to 
him.  The  moment  this  endowment  was  made  known 
to  them  the  fat  was  in  the  fire.  "She  tempted  me 
and  I  fell"  has  been  the  subject  of  picture  and  poem, 
story  and  sermon,  excuse  or  extenuation,  since  time 
immemorial.  Learned  tomes  and  ponderous  volumes 
have  set  forth  specifically  the  difference  of  the  sexes, 
more  or  less  uselessly  too,  for  no  one  needs  to  be  con- 
vinced that  there  are  anatomical  and  physiological 
differences.  The  obvious  is  never  interesting;  the  plea- 
surable quest  is  pursuit  of  the  elusive,  the  intangible. 
There  are  differences  between  the  sexes  that  defy  spe- 
cific designation,  for  I  do  not  admit  that  specificity  is 
given  to  these  distinctions  by  saying  that  men  differ 
from  women  emotionally,  morally,  spiritually,  ethi- 
cally, or  that  they  react  differently  to  the  same  stimu- 
lus under  the  same  circumstances,  or  that  there  are 
soul  differences  of  kind  and  degree.  We  do  not  have 
to  decide  whether  these  distinctions  are  inherent  or 
acquired.  We  have  only  to  admit  that  they  exist. 
The  plain  fact  is  that  tradition  and  experience  teach  us 
that  both  the  male  and  the  female  of  the  genus  homo 
have  certain  spiritual  endowments,  both  on  the  emo- 
tional and  the  intellectual  side,  which  have  come  to  be 
looked  upon  as  characteristic.  Courage,  valor,  secrecy 
are  universally  considered  to  be  characteristics  of  the 


SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE    253 

male.  On  the  other  hand,  patience,  sentiment,  vanity, 
and  fickleness  have  become  traditionally  linked  up 
with  the  opposite  sex.  Women  are  often  braver  than 
men,  more  continent,  less  vain,  but  to  admit  this  does 
not  diminish  the  acceptability  of  the  general  proposi- 
tion. No  one  is  likely  to  contend  that  either  sex  has 
a  monopoly  of  any  of  these  qualities,  but  I  fancy  it 
will  readily  be  admitted  that  sentimentality,  in  its 
most  flagrant  display,  is  a  more  characteristic  ancilla 
of  woman  than  of  man.  Bulwer  Lytton  was  a  shrewd 
observer  when  he  wrote:  "There  is  sentiment  in  all 
women  and  sentiment  gives  delicacy  to  thought  and 
tact  to  manner."  But  sentiment  with  men  is  generally 
acquired,  an  offspring  of  the  intellectual  quality,  not 
as  with  the  other  sex,  of  the  moral.  A  man  considers 
it  a  term  of  reproach  to  be  called  sentimental;  on  the 
other  hand,  such  designation  in  no  way  detracts  from 
a  woman's  estimate  of  herself,  nor  does  it  derogate  her 
in  the  esteem  of  others  so  long  as  she  confines  it 
within  certain  limits  and  so  long  as  it  does  not  condi- 
tion her  conduct.  Many  a  man  on  reviewing  his  past 
recognizes  that  his  ship  of  celibacy  foundered  upon 
the  sandy  shoals  called  "tender-minded."  The  ten- 
der-minded girl  is  one  with  a  mind  somewhat  underde- 
veloped, saturated  in  sentimentality  usually  associated 
with  a  streak  of  obstinacy  which  is  beyond  parental 
influence. 

With  nubility  there  comes  to  every  girl  a  wealth  of 
emotional  endowment  which  is  often  most  bewildering 
— indeed,  it  upsets  some  unstable  organizations,  while 
to  others  it  is  merely  an  intoxication.  It  disturbs  their 
equilibrium,  it  tends  to  break  down  their  inhibitions 
and  to  befog  the  perspectives  that  have  been  so  care- 


254  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

fully  developed  for  them,  and  it  not  infrequently  roils 
the  water  of  life  in  which  they  have  been  floating  and 
swimming  without  effort  to  such  a  degree  that  they 
constitute  a  problem  for  parent  and  teacher.  The 
average  girl  gradually  throws  off  these  disequilibriliz- 
ing  effects;  and  the  moonlight  walks  in  the  garden,  or 
the  romantic  plans  to  spend  an  idyllic  life  in  a  tiny 
cottage  covered  by  a  rambler  rose-bush  far  from  the 
madding  crowd,  companioned  by  an  Adonis  and  the 
poetry  of  Tennyson,  her  extravagant  protestations  of 
love  for  another  girl,  her  exuberant  interest  in  some 
mystic  or  fantastic  cult,  and  other  concomitants  of 
this  period,  are  given  proper  valuation. 

She  emerges  into  womanhood  with  a  "head"  for 
the  intoxicating  libation  that  wells  up  in  her  tissues, 
and  is  poured  through  her  soul  as  sap  wells  up  in  a  tree, 
even  to  the  smallest  branches  preparatory  to  its  bloom 
and  fructification.  The  knowledge  is  borne  in  upon 
her  that  she  can  manage  the  new  possession  conforma- 
bly to  the  canons  of  church,  state,  and  society,  and 
that  the  total  of  what  has  come  to  her  at  this  period 
may  be  split  up  into  qualities  or  possessions  to  which 
are  given  specific  names,  such  as  sentiment.  Soon  she 
realizes  that  these  qualities  become  important  assets 
in  her  display  of  the  ars  amoris  and  they  prepare  the 
road  that  leads  pleasantly  and  propitiously  to  the  goal 
which  shall  be  the  fulfilment  of  her  physiological  des- 
tiny, namely,  maternity  via  matrimony.  When  that 
gratifying  stage  has  been  reached  and  fulfilled  she  un- 
derstands that  sentimentality,  modestly  displayed,  con- 
tributes largely  to  her  success,  not  only  in  her  family 
but  in  the  world. 

How  different  with  the  opposite  sex!    He  likewise 


SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE    255 

feels  the  obscuring  mists  of  sex  potency  and  of  senti- 
mentality settling  over  him  as  puberty  approaches. 
He  is  also  bewildered,  but  it  is  early  made  clear  to  him 
by  his  fellows  who  have  gone  through  the  experience 
that  the  slightest  manifestation  of  it  will  be  the  signal 
for  loosing  on  him  the  floodgates  of  their  contempt  and 
for  opening  for  him  the  sluiceways  of  their  scorn.  To 
be  called  a  mollycoddle  is  worse  than  being  called  a 
sneak,  a  cad,  or  a  liar,  and  he  is  made  to  appreciate 
that  if  he  merits  such  designation  his  companions 
will  give  him  the  kind  of  reception  the  wedding  guests 
gave  the  ancient  mariner.  It  is  borne  in  upon  him 
that  display  of  sentiment  in  any  form  whatsoever  is 
not  " manly";  so  he  not  only  suppresses  sentimen- 
tality, but  in  order  to  conceal  it  he  goes  much  farther 
and  no  longer  treats  his  sisters  with  the  same  kindness 
and  consideration  as  before;  he  withdraws  his  intima- 
cies and  his  confidences  from  his  mother,  professes  a 
contempt  for  the  society  of  girls,  and  embraces  every 
opportunity  to  display  a  furious  antagonism  toward 
sentimentality. 

This  period  is  oftentimes  a  trying  one  for  the  parent, 
and,  as  every  one  knows,  it  is  fraught  with  danger  to 
the  individual,  particularly  if  he  is  a  weak  character, 
because  it  is  during  these  times  that  sinister  associa- 
tions and  injurious  habits  are  formed  which  are  prej- 
udicial to  physical  development  and  mental  evolution. 
This  is  the  period  of  life  which  has  furnished  the  fertile 
soil  in  which  the  modern  English  novelist  successfully 
sows  his  seed. 

The  average  boy  emerges  from  this  period  with  a. 
vision  so  adjusted  to  his  immediate  environment  and 
the  world  that  he  senses  things  as  they  really  are.    He 


256  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

begins  to  get  some  idea  of  the  purposes  and  value  of 
life,  its  obligations  and  its  privileges,  and  as  the 
result  of  intuition  or  tuition,  that  happiness  and  use- 
fulness, the  chief  aims  and  objects  of  life,  stand  in 
direct  and  measurable  relationship  to  the  possession 
and  display  of  certain  qualities  which  are  commonly 
spoken  of  as  virtues.  As  his  mind  unfolds  and  he  is 
able  to  give  relativity  to  these  qualities,  he  becomes 
aware  that  sentiment  in  a  man  is  not  a  deforming  but 
a  meritorious  possession,  which,  when  used  properly, 
is  a  great  asset,  but  that  it  is  one  of  the  qualities  of 
his  make-up  that  should  not  be  displayed  to  the  vul- 
gar gaze,  and  is  a  possession  which  he  should  rarely 
use  save  to  blend  with  other  qualities  to  give  them 
savor.  He  appreciates  that  sentiment  gives  momen- 
tum to  his  designs  and  tone  to  his  accomplishments, 
while  furnishing  appropriate  and  fitting  setting  for 
their  display,  and  with  discernment  he  is  able  to  dis- 
tinguish clearly  between  sentiment  and  sentimentality 
and  knows  that  the  word  sentiment  is  used  synony- 
mously with  feeling  or  conviction.  Sentiment  is  a 
composite  of  many  of  the  virtues  and  is  a  subjective 
possession  which,  when  revealed  in  words,  action, 
or  conduct  may  become  sentimentality,  providing  the 
origin  of  these  words,  acts,  and  deeds  is  founded  in 
sentiment. 

The  possession  of  sentiment,  that  is,  of  feeling,  is 
a  most  desirable  one  so  long  as  it  does  not  warp  the 
judgment,  interfere  with  the  mission,  or  prevent 
a  man  from  doing  his  duty.  The  man  or  woman  who 
is  devoid  of  feeling  is  a  species  of  monster,  but  the 
man  or  woman  whose  plan  of  life  is  based  upon  senti- 
ment and  whose  conduct  conforms  to  sentiment  is 


SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE    257 

mentally  and  morally  unhealthy.  As  Lowell  says: 
"Every  man  feels  instinctively  that  all  the  beautiful 
sentiments  in  the  world  weigh  less  than  a  single  lovely 
action/ '  Decisions,  plans  of  action,  conduct  condi- 
tioned by  or  founded  in  sentiment  can  be  followed 
safely  only  if  they  are  submitted  to  the  acid  test 
of  reason  before  acceptation  or  subscription.  Senti- 
ment as  a  possession  may  be  compared  to  a  ferocious 
dog.  He  may  be  invaluable  as  a  watch-dog,  which 
adequately  chained  gives  you  a  feeling  of  security, 
and  at  appropriate  times  can  be  unleashed  to  signal 
advantage,  and  accomplishes  under  guidance  that 
which  merits  full  approval;  but  let  loose  at  all  times 
he  is  an  intolerable  nuisance  and  may  get  you  into  one 
trouble  after  another. 

The  sentimentalist  is  a  person  who,  in  decisions, 
judgments,  plans  of  action,  and  conduct  of  them,  point 
of  view  in  dealing  with  persons  individually  and 
collectively,  has  his  conduct  so  colored  by  sentiment 
that  his  plan  of  action  and  ability  and  methods  of  its 
execution  seem  illogical  and  incapable  of  being  sub- 
jected to  the  test  of  reason.  Carlyle  put  it  tersely 
when  he  said:  "The  barrenest  of  mortals  is  the  sen- 
timent alist." 

The  agonal  struggle  of  the  Great  War  was  not 
necessary  to  convince  us  that  very  little  is  to  be  ac- 
complished in  the  world  single-handed.  The  in- 
dividual can  give  birth  to  the  idea,  the  plan,  or  pos- 
sess the  initiative  which  may  revolutionize  some  phase 
of  the  activities  of  the  world,  but  to  carry  out  the  idea 
he  must  have  the  co-operation  of  many.  It  is  in  se- 
curing such  co-operation  that  he  has  a  great  oppor- 
tunity to  make  a  proper  use  of  sentiment.    There  is 


258  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

nothing  that  an  organizer  or  an  administrator  finds 
out  earlier  or  surer  than  that  loyalty  is  the  cement 
that  keeps  his  organization  together,  and  the  more 
it  sets  the  more  firm  and  invulnerable  becomes  his 
organization. 

How  to  engender  such  loyalty  is  a  problem  that 
each  person  confronted  with  it  must  solve  for  himself. 
Some  do  it  by  meriting  the  respect  and  admiration 
of  their  coworkers  and  subordinates  by  display  of  such 
qualities  as  kindliness,  justice,  generosity,  considera- 
tion of  the  welfare  of  their  fellows,  while  others  encom- 
pass it  by  the  whole-hearted  and  unselfish  way  in 
which  they  give  themselves  to  the  work.  Some  do  it 
quite  impersonally  and  may  possibly  not  be  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  any  member  of  their  organization. 
This  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  they  hold  them- 
selves aloof  from  those  with  whom  they  come  in  con- 
tact; on  the  contrary,  there  may  exist  a  genial  com- 
radeship from  which  mutual  respect,  admiration,  and 
possibly  even  affection  are  developed.  Some  few 
develop  loyalty  from  personal  contact  on  the  basis  of 
sentimentality.  They  proceed  upon  the  plan  that  if 
they  cannot  secure  the  personal  admiration  and  affec- 
tion of  those  associated  with  them,  impelling  them  to 
do  their  best  because  of  this  relationship  rather  than 
for  the  good  of  the  cause,  they  have  not  been  com- 
pletely successful  in  their  accomplishment.  To  this 
end  they  not  infrequently  resort  to  a  display  of 
sentimentality  which  is  distressing  to  the  impartial 
onlooker.  That  great  dissector  of  the  morals  and  mo- 
tives of  men,  Thackeray,  said:  "One  tires  of  a  sen- 
timentalist who  is  always  pumping  the  tears  from  his 
eyes  or  your  own."    They  lavish  praise  upon  those 


SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE    259 

who  have  not  merited  it,  substituting  adulation  for 
admonition;  they  profess  a  confidence  that  is  not 
justified  by  results;  they  claim  to  see  only  virtues  in 
every  individual  who  is  drawn  into  the  sacred  circle 
of  their  employment  or  association.  Should  they 
have  suspicions  that  some  in  their  circle  are  not  deserv- 
ing of  confidence  or  do  not  have  the  qualities  from 
which  loyal,  useful  associates  can  be  made,  they 
delude  themselves  with  the  belief  that  they  can  en- 
gender a  sufficient  desire  in  the  inadequate  one  to 
compel  him  to  be  loyal  and  efficient  in  order  that  the 
confidence  and  admiration  of  the  chief  may  be  re- 
quited. 

People  who  work  together  should  respect  each  other, 
and  by  it  employer  and  employee  should  be  linked 
together.  If  a  more  intimate  relation  flows  naturally 
from  this  respect,  well  and  good,  but  there  should  not 
be  the  slightest  attempt  made  to  engender  it  on  a 
sentimental  basis.  The  rugged  mind  of  Carlyle 
eschewed  the  sentimental.  He  stated:  "The  senti- 
mental by  and  by  will  have  to  give  place  to  the  prac- 
tical." 

Most  men  if  they  strive  sufficiently  to  make  others 
like  them  can  succeed  in  their  endeavor,  but  a  man 
should  be  liked  for  the  inherent  virtues  or  laudable 
qualities  that  he  possesses  and  not  for  the  semblance 
of  them  which  he  assumes  for  a  special  purpose.  We 
like  a  man  because  he  is  trustworthy,  loyal,  efficient, 
reliable,  truthful,  co-operative,  sympathetic,  under- 
standing, but  we  do  not  necessarily  like  him  because 
some  one  else  tells  us  that  ye  ought  to  like  him,  par- 
ticularly if  we  have  found,  **  ^oes  not  possess  any 
of  the  qualities  we  desire  ">uld  have  made 


260  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

him  acceptable.  The  sentimentalist  is  often  guided  in 
his  decisions  and  in  his  conduct  relative  to  others  by 
the  fear  that,  if  he  apprises  the  individual  of  the  reason 
why  he  no  longer  wishes  to  keep  up  business  or  pro- 
fessional relations  with  him,  the  individual  thus  treated 
will  devote  some  time  afterward  to  tarnishing  the 
lustre  of  his  halo. 

The  sentimentalist  fears  especially  the  criticism,  dis- 
paragement, and  possibly  one  might  say  the  malignity 
of  those  from  whom  he  chooses  to  separate  after  they 
have  been  weighed  and  found  wanting.  It  is  not  that 
he  fears  that  injury  will  be  done  him,  because  not  in- 
frequently his  career  is  so  successful  that  it  can  with- 
stand an  enormous  amount  of  disparagement  and 
criticism  without  detrimental  impression.  The  dis- 
paragement of  such  individuals  can  do  him  no  harm 
save  in  the  humiliation  to  his  pride  when  it  is  brought 
home  to  him  that  he  has  not  been  able  to  make  the 
leopard  change  his  spots.  Self-interest  is  the  sub- 
conscious motive  that  often  leads  to  a  display  of 
sentimentality.  The  sentimentalist  realizes  that  alle- 
gations of  merit  and  of  capacity  are  "  things  that  are 
graceful  in  a  friend's  mouth  but  blushing  in  a  man's 
own,"  and  as  such  praise  is  the  breath  of  his  nostrils 
he  will  go  to  great  lengths  to  achieve  its  accomplish- 
ment. But,  though  he  may  be  deceived  by  flattery, 
there  are  others  who  know  that  "on  ne  trouve  jamais 
Texpression  d'un  sentiment  qui  Ton  n'a  pas;  Tesprit 
grimace  et  le  style  aussi."  He  is  the  easy  prey  for 
those  who  appeal  to  his  vanity  or  to  his  susceptibility 
to  flattery,  to  advance  their  own  or  others'  projects 
and  interests,  and  he  may  be  led  into  doing  things 
which  his  sober  judgment  tells  him  are  not  desirable, 


SENTIMENTALITY  AND  THE  MALE    261 

because  he  feels  that  he  must  not  run  the  risk  of  lower- 
ing himself  in  the  estimate  of  the  individual  from  whom 
he  has  accepted  adulation,  reverence,  or  adoration. 

When  the  male  sentimentalist  habituates  himself  to 
this  worshipful  attitude  from  the  other  sex  he  becomes 
covered  with  points  which  Achilles  had  only  immedi- 
ately above  the  heel.  The  sex  which  has  long  been 
popularly  known  as  the  weaker  has  an  inherited  or 
acquired  code  of  morality  which  permits  them  to  make 
demands  of  the  sentimental  man  which  a  mere  man, 
unless  base,  would  scorn,  and  now  that  the  sex  has 
been  emancipated  we  begin  to  feel  that  they  should 
come  out  in  the  open  and  play  fair.  If  they  want  to 
rely  for  their  successes  upon  the  weapons  that  have 
been  vouchsafed  them  heretofore,  they  should  not 
have  the  privileges  which  they  are  asking  for  and 
receiving  to-day.  Heaven  knows  no  one  is  more  desir- 
ous that  they  should  have  what  they  ask  for  in  that 
direction  than  I  am,  but  they  should  not  use  their  sex 
quality  to  take  an  unfair  advantage.  Thus  oftentimes 
one  who  merits  the  designation  of  "  pillar  of  strength 
and  tower  of  fire"  becomes  a  reed  in  the  emotional 
wind  that  blows  from  the  designing  woman.  She  may 
not  be  designing  in  a  malignant  sense;  she  may  merely 
enjoy  the  display  of  power.  It  is  remarkable  what  a 
sentimentalist  will  put  up  with  in  the  shape  of  indig- 
nity and  inefficiency  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  being 
impaired  in  the  esteem  of  one  who  has  this  kind  of 
influence  over  him.  Emerson,  one  of  our  deepest 
thinkers,  said:  "Man  is  the  will  and  woman  is  the  sen- 
timent. In  this  ship  of  humanity  will  is  the  rudder 
and  sentiment  the  sail;  when  woman  affects  to  steer, 
the  rudder  is  only  the  masked  sail." 


262  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

There  is  nothing  more  Jove-like  than  virility  and 
continency,  but  a  man  saturated  with  sentimentality 
produces  a  sensation  akin  to  that  which  the  child 
experiences  when  she  finds  her  doll  is  stuffed  with 
sawdust. 

Sentiment  in  a  man  is  like  scent  in  a  rose.  It  is 
the  finishing  touch  to  perfection;  when  it  is  deficient  it 
thrills  one  no  more  than  the  painted  flower;  when  it  is 
excessive  the  heaviness  of  its  enervating  odor  is  op- 
pressive. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN 

Italy's  greatest  recent  patriot  is  Cesare  Battisti, 
who  suffered  martyrdom  for  love  of  his  native  land. 
He  was  an  Austrian  subject,  professor  of  biology  and 
geography  in  the  University  of  Trent  and  a  deputy  in 
the  Austrian  House  of  Parliament.  In  the  beginning 
of  the  war  he  returned  to  Italy  to  fight  against  the 
country  of  his  adoption  and  to  favor  the  fortunes  of 
his  native  land,  and  his  efforts  were  crowned  with 
great  success.  He  entered  the  Italian  Army  as  a  lieu- 
tenant of  the  Alpini,  and  in  1916  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Austrians,  who  quickly  and  cruelly  despatched 
him  by  the  most  barbarous  methods  that  they  could 
conceive.  Streets  and  piazzas  have  been  named  for 
him,  hospitals  and  monuments  have  been  raised  in  his 
honor,  and  his  name  is  known  to  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  in  the  kingdom. 

But  it  is  not  of  Battisti  that  I  would  write,  but  to 
record  a  train  of  thought  that  was  initiated  by  the 
sight  of  the  orphans  who  were  occupying  the  building 
which  Italy's  most  distinguished  physician,  Ettore 
Marchiafava,  aided  by  generous  friends  of  the  sick 
poor,  has  taken  over  for  a  tuberculosis  hospital,  and 
which  will  be  called  after  Cesare  Battisti.  There  were 
about  two  hundred  girls,  ranging  in  age  from  six  to 
fourteen,  in  the  charge  of  an  order  of  nuns.  The 
building  is  situated  on  a  hill  in  the  outskirts  of  Rome 
known  as  Monte  Verde,  which  is  the  southern  con- 

263 


264  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tinuation  of  the  Janiculum.  In  former  days  it  was  a 
palatial  villa  belonging  to  some  dignitary  of  the  church 
and  latterly  church  property.  It  commands  a  mag- 
nificent view  of  Rome,  of  the  Tiber,  of  the  Campagna, 
the  Castelli  Romani,  and  the  Alban  Hills.  When  I 
arrived  the  children  were  in  the  grounds  about  the 
house  and  more  or  less  segregated  in  a  broad  walk  or 
alley  lined  by  trees  which  led  from  the  street  to  the 
villa.  They  were  walking  up  and  down  in  twos  or 
threes  or  singly,  apparently  without  other  objective 
or  display  of  desire  than  to  walk.  They  looked  like 
children  of  many  nationalities,  healthy  and  clean;  but, 
more  than  that,  they  looked  happy,  contented,  satis- 
fied. As  I  passed  amongst  them,  nearly  every  one 
greeted  me  with  a  smile  and  "Buon  giorno"  There 
was  no  show  of  embarrassment,  shyness,  bashfulness, 
or  artificiality. 

I  looked  over  the  grounds  of  the  place,  several  acres, 
and  saw  not  the  slightest  sign  of  games,  swings,  play- 
grounds, sand-piles,  or  other  feature  with  which  chil- 
dren divert  themselves  or  are  diverted  in  other  lands, 
I  went  through  the  house  from  cellar  to  garret,  and 
rarely  have  I  seen  an  inhabited  building  with  fewer 
signs  of  habitation.  The  dormitories  contained  long 
rows  of  beds  with  no  sign  of  tables,  chairs,  stands, 
comfort-bags — nothing  save  the  beds.  The  refectory 
was  equally  barren.  The  schoolroom  was  desolation 
itself — benches,  long  desks,  and  a  solitary  blackboard. 
The  only  indication  that  anything  was  taught  save 
that  which  could  be  imparted  by  word  of  mouth  was 
a  typewriting  machine.  Examine  as  carefully  as  I 
might,  I  wasn't  able  to  detect  the  smallest  object  for 
the  diversion,  entertainment,  distraction,  occupation 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    265 

of  the  little  ones  that  the  place  was  utilized  to  harbor, 
to  nurture,  to  develop,  and  to  instruct.  When  I  re- 
turned to  terra  firma,  there  they  were,  walking  up  and 
down  the  alley  as  they  were  when  I  went  in.  A  gentle- 
eyed  sister  was  among  the  groups  of  the  smaller  ones, 
but  they  seemed  not  to  need  care.  They  were  self- 
sufficient. 

For  the  first  time  I  felt  the  sensation  of  oppression 
in  the  presence  of  a  crowd  of  joyous  children.  I  felt 
they  were  in  a  prison-house  narrower  and  more  restrict- 
ing than  that  which  closes  in  upon  the  budding  man, 
and  I  went  away  without  thought  of  Cesare  Battisti, 
but  big  with  solicitude  for  these  lusty  young  beings 
whose  best  and  most  potential  quality,  the  play  in- 
stinct, was  being  stultified,  or  at  least  not  cultivated. 

I  marvelled  that  the  country  which  made  the  most 
constructive  contribution  to  child  pedagogy  of  the 
nineteenth  century  fails  to  see  or  to  realize  that  the 
most  potent,  directly  God-sent  possession  of  a  child 
is  its  imagery  or  fancy,  which  externalizes  itself  in 
every  child  in  the  desire  to  play — to  play  parent,  con- 
struction, warfare,  games,  or  ape  the  activities  of  their 
elders.  The  explanation  cannot  be  that  Italy  is  ig- 
norant of  the  cultivation  of  the  child's  instinct  for 
play  in  other  countries  or  of  the  immense  provision 
that  is  made  to  enhance  it  both  in  public  and  in  private 
life.  I  can  readily  understand  that  there  might  be 
wilful  opposition  to  it  in  church  institutions,  as  its 
elaborate  display  is  considered  inimical  to  that  hu- 
mility which  is  the  essence  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Punish  the  flesh,  have  a  contempt  and  a  disdain  for 
any  of  its  clamorings,  treat  it  as  if  it  were  a  vessel 
unworthy  of  its  sacred  cargo  the  soul,  scourge  it  and 


266  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

humiliate  it,  and  you  will  find  favor  in  His  sight.  It 
is  extraordinary  and  inexplicable  that  man  should  feel 
himself  free  to  suggest  to  himself  and  to  others  that  a 
suppression,  even  abnegation,  of  God-given  instincts 
which  are  as  much  an  integral  part  of  the  genus  homo 
as  his  speech  capacity,  is  necessary  in  order  that  the 
individual  should  find  favor  in  God's  eyes  and  be 
worthy  of  reward  when  he  is  called  to  join  Him.  It 
seems  so  much  more  consistent  with  reason  that  the 
species  were  provided  with  instincts  that  they  might 
be  utilized,  and  therefore  that  the  duty  of  the  teacher 
and  the  guide  is  to  foster  these  instincts,  to  develop 
them,  and  to  direct  them  toward  the  channels  where 
they  may  be  utilized  to  the  advantage  of  the  individual, 
the  community,  and  the  state.  If  it  were  only  the 
church  that  displayed  an  opposition  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  play  instinct  in  children  I  should  not  con- 
cern myself  particularly  with  it,  as  I  am  not  inclined 
to  take  issue  with  the  church,  either  in  its  propaganda 
or  in  its  teachings.  I  consider  that  it  takes  an  unfair 
advantage  of  infants  and  children,  but  I  solace  my 
indignation  with  the  thought  that  when  the  child 
comes  to  man's  estate  mentally  he  is  free  to  liberate 
himself  from  its  enthralments  and  inhibitions.  It 
may  be  said  that  it  has  shaped  his  mental  processes, 
activities,  and  inclinations  to  such  purpose  that  he 
does  not  see  straight,  and  that  accusation  is  true,  pro- 
viding they  have  sterilized  his  mind  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  is  no  longer  capable  of  constructive  thought. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  they  often  bring  about  such 
mental  eunuchoidismus,  but  it  is  probable  that  the 
great  majority  of  those  thus  sterilized  would  have  been 
dead-wood  in  the  stream  of  evolutionary  progress  had 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    267 

they  been  left  intact.  But  insensitiveness  to  the 
child's  needs  is  not  confined  to  parochial  schools  and 
other  church  institutions  where  children  are  harbored 
and  taught.  In  Italy  it  is  displayed  in  nearly  every 
public  and  private  institution  where  the  young  are 
segregated  for  purposes  of  instruction  and  mainte- 
nance. 

I  would  not  be  understood  to  say  that  there  are  not 
playgrounds  of  any  kind  connected  with  Italian  schools, 
but  the  few  that  exist  are  scarcely  worthy  of  the  name. 
The  plain  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  the  play  instinct 
has  been  thwarted  so  long  in  the  Italian  that  it  doesn't 
seem  to  exist  any  more.  One  of  the  things  that  strikes 
the  stranger  who  penetrates  far  enough  into  family  life 
to  permit  him  the  opportunity  of  observation  is  that 
the  parent  doesn't  play  with  his  children  as  does  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  and  children  do  not  play  with  each 
other.  I  cannot  conceive  that  the  child,  left  to  itself, 
does  not 

"Hold  unconscious  intercourse  with  beauty 
Old  as  creation," 

and  give  evidence  of  it  and  of  the  activity  of  its  de- 
veloping mind  which  reveals  itself  constructively  in 
that  which  we  call  play.  But  the  observation  and 
experience  of  children  in  Italy  lead  me  to  believe  that 
when  they  grow  up  and  recall 

"Those  recollected  hours  that  have  the  charm 
Of  visionary  things,  those  lovely  forms 
And  sweet  sensations  that  throw  back  their  life, 
And  almost  make  remotest  infancy 
A  visible  scene,  on  which  the  sun  is  shining," 


268  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

they  do  not  expose  a  treasure-house  in  which  are 
stored  the  recollections  of  the  most  envied  times  of 
their  lives. 

The  little  villino  that  I  occupy  is  cared  for  by  a 
couple  whose  only  child  is  a  little  girl  of  eight.  From 
my  window  I  survey  her  activities  and  I  have  never 
yet  seen  her  in  play, 

"Seen  no  little  plan  of  chart  or  fragment 
From  her  beam  of  human  life 
Shaped  by  herself  with  newly  learned  art." 

When  I  look  out  in  the  morning  she  is  likely  to  be 
sitting  outside  the  gate  as  if  awaiting  something  to 
transpire  that  would  be  worthy  of  observation,  atten- 
tion, or  participation.  When  I  return  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  and  again  in  the  evening  and  when  Sundays 
or  other  times  I  am  in  my  rooms  for  a  protracted 
period,  I  see  her  ever  busily  engaged  in  doing  nothing. 
The  only  imaginative  or  emotional  activity  that  I 
have  ever  witnessed  her  display  is  that  sometimes  I  find 
her  humming  and  she  always  smiles  and  greets  me 
most  affably.  At  times  I  see  other  children  make  a 
visit  to  her,  but  it  is  obviously  a  ceremonious  one,  for 
there  are  no  shrieks  or  yells,  no  tumbling  or  rolling,  no 
scampering  or  chattering,  none  of  that  display  of  phys- 
ical vitality  and  joy  of  living  that  lambs  or  colts  or 
calves  or  even  puppies  or  kittens  make.  They  are  like  a 
miniature  group  of  Giacondas,  older  than  the  rocks  upon 
which  they  sit,  who  have  tasted  all  the  joys  to  satiety. 
The  doll  that  I  gave  her  has  apparently  been  put 
away,  not  at  all  unlikely  with  a  scapular  or  holy 
beads.     At  least,  I  have  never  seen  her  with  it  in 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    269 

her  arms  since  the  day  she  received  it.  There  is  no 
sign  of  miniature  wheelbarrow  or  shovel  or  sandpile, 
no  little  wooden  geegee,  no  bicycle  or  miniature  loco- 
motive, no  blocks  or  other  material  from  which  to 
construct  a  castle  or  a  kitchen,  no  indication  what- 
soever that  she  attempts  to  portray  any  of  the  vagrant 
thoughts  or  fleeting  fancies  that  arise  in  her  budding 
mind.  When  I  go  on  a  Sunday  to  the  little  villages  in 
the  Campagna  or  in  the  Castelli  Romani  to  which 
the  proletariat  repair  with  their  families  in  villeggia- 
tura,  I  see  hundreds  of  children,  but  never  once  have 
I  seen  any  of  them  playing,  nor  are  they  noisy  and 
boisterous.  If  they  are  clamorous  and  restless,  it  is 
for  food  or  for  appeasement  of  some  other  physical 
need.  Even  the  little  boys  do  not  play  in  the  streets. 
Their  one  source  of  amusement  is  for  a  number  of  them 
to  gather  around  a  pile  of  small  stones  used  for  repair 
of  the  road  and  to  divert  themselves  by  hurling  them 
at  one  another  when  a  carriage  or  an  automobile  is 
not  passing,  at  which  time  they  concentrate  their  ef- 
forts on  attempts  to  slay  the  occupants  of  these  vehi- 
cles with  the  deadly  missiles  at  hand. 

On  the  Janiculum  where  I  live  there  is  a  paradise 
for  children,  a  little  park  with  the  roaring,  splashing 
fountain  of  St.  Paolo  at  one  end  of  it  and  the  entrance 
to  the  broad,  shaded  driveway  that  traverses  the  Janic- 
ulum to  St.  Onofrio  at  the  other.  On  either  side  of 
this  drive  are  broad  lawns  interspersed  with  flower- 
beds and  shaded  with  most  seductive  trees,  amongst 
which  is  Tasso's  oak,  now  fallen  into  such  a  state  of 
decrepitude  that  it  has  to  have  artificial  support  and 
braces.  The  place  is  often  alive  with  children,  pain- 
fully decorous  and  silent.     They  often  remind  me  of 

i 


270  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Millet's  "Man  with  the  Hoe,"  bowed  down  with  the 
weight  of  ages.  Not  infrequently  I  meet  in  the  morn- 
ing and  in  the  evening  whole  troops  of  children  going 
and  returning  from  the  accessible  fields  of  Monte 
Verde,  always  lined  up  like  soldiers,  two  abreast,  and 
the  only  manifestation  of  externalized  emotion  I  have 
ever  seen  in  them  is  that  occasionally  their  keepers — 
priest,  nun,  or  sour-visaged  guardian — permit  them  to 
break  into  song — patriotic  anthem  or  lyric  wail. 

It  is  notorious  that  games  play  no  such  part  in  the 
diversion  of  the  adult  Italian  as  they  do  in  the  coun- 
tries peopled  by  our  own  race.  Golf,  tennis,  football, 
cricket,  baseball  are  practically  unknown  except 
as  they  have  been  established  by  foreigners  for  their 
own  use.  Naturally  they  have  attracted  some  Italians, 
but  there  is  no  general  interest  in  them.  Contests 
of  endurance,  such  as  bicycle  races  and  rowing,  they 
have,  and  horse-racing  has  a  certain  vogue,  but  chiefly 
because  it  facilitates  taking  chances  on  the  winner. 
This  is  the  more  remarkable,  for  when  they  do  go  in 
for  games  they  often  excel,  showing  aptitude,  endur- 
ance, and  daring.  There  is  no  nationality  that  com- 
pares with  them  in  their  riding,  for  instance.  It  is  not 
true  to  say  that  they  do  not  play  games.  The  Spanish 
game  of  ball  known  as  pelota  is  played  in  some  centres 
where  the  jeunesse  doree  segregate,  and  another  game 
of  ball  called  pallone  is  played  a  little,  but  with  no  en- 
thusiasm, and  it  arouses  no  considerable  interest. 
In  fact,  nothing  included  under  the  head  of  sport 
plays  a  great  role  in  Italy.  Fortunately  it  is  being  en- 
couraged, and  within  a  generation  we  may  confidently 
anticipate  a  decided  change.  It  would,  of  course,  be 
ridiculous  to  say  that  they  do  not  shoot  and  fish.    You 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    271 

often  encounter  in  tramping  through  the  country  a 
man  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  but  usually  he  is  a 
pot-hunter,  and  now  and  then  your  rambles  bring  you 
face  to  face  with  a  Nimrod,  but  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
he  likewise  is  animated  by  the  desire  for  succulent  food. 
On  superficial  examination  it  seems  extraordinary 
that  this  state  of  affairs  should  exist  in  a  country  which 
for  many  centuries  seemed  to  have  had  its  chief  en- 
joyment in  murder,  sense-gratification,  games,  and 
contests  of  courage,  strength,  and  endurance.  No  one 
can  read  the  history  of  the  days  of  Roman  supremacy 
without  being  struck  with  the  fact  that  the  chief 
amusement  of  the  populace  of  those  days  was  play, 
display  of  strength,  skill,  dexterity,  and  inventiveness. 
Archaeologists  and  others  interested  in  unearthing  and 
interpreting  archaic  remains  tell  us  that  the  aphorism 
that  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun  is  true  so  far 
as  games  are  concerned,  and  I  expect  any  day  to  hear 
that  they  have  disinterred  a  golf  course  at  Ostia,  a 
diamond  or  a  football  field  at  Salerno.  However,  after 
reflection,  it  occurs  to  me  that  there  are  many  reasons 
why  the  Italians,  young  and  old,  do  not  play  spon- 
taneously and  intentionally,  or  as  naturally  and 
pleasurably  as  those  of  other  nations.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  understand  why  all  play  ceased  in  those 
days  of  intellectual  apathy,  artistic  sterility,  and 
emotional  decay  which,  beginning  with  the  fourth 
century  A.  D.,  continued  for  nearly  a  thousand  years. 
I  have  never  looked  into  the  matter  with  sufficient  care 
to  be  able  to  say  whether  or  not  there  was  a  renaissance 
of  the  play  instinct  or  any  elaborate  and  wide-spread 
manifestation  of  it  beginning  with  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, but  my  impression  is  that  there  was.    We  have 


272  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

records  of  tournaments  and  jousts  and  games  of  various 
kinds  in  certain  cities  of  Italy,  such  as  Salerno;  there 
still  exist  the  physical  features  or  foundations  of  such 
play.  Any  one  who  has  read  Italian  history  until  the 
successful  movement  of  nationality  of  1870  will  not 
be  astonished  that  play  in  any  form  did  not  have  a 
great  vogue  during  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  cen- 
turies. The  people  were  too  busy  devising  plans  to 
outwit  their  neighbors  and  to  get  possession  of  their 
lands  and  their  treasures  to  have  time  for  play. 

The  Italian  nature  or  temperament  is  not  favor- 
able to  development  of  the  play  instinct.  The  Italian 
likes  to  act,  or  to  display  histrionic  possession,  more 
than  anything  else;  it  has  often  been  remarked  that 
they  are  born  actors,  and  not  only  do  they  produce 
more  great  actors  and  actresses  than  any  other  coun- 
try but  you  see  more  finished  and  artistic  acting  in 
Italy  than  in  any  other  country  of  the  world.  They 
are  devoted  to  mimicry,  adepts  in  pantomime,  and 
their  " marionettes"  have  reached  a  high  degree  of 
artistic  development.  As  for  the  cinema,  they  go 
to  it  with  the  ardor  of  a  lover  to  his  mistress.  The 
theatre  and  gambling  is  the  Italian  idea  of  diversion, 
relaxation,  and  amusement. 

The  display  and  satisfaction  of  the  play  instinct 
spell  work,  oftentimes  most  laborious  work  carefully 
planned  and  elaborately  carried  out.  The  success- 
ful pursuit  of  games  of  all  sorts  requires  not  only  work 
but  oftentimes  protracted  physical  training  and  pro- 
found physical  effort.  The  Italians  do  not  take  kindly 
to  them.  In  the  south  of  Italy  there  are  six  months 
of  the  year  and  often  more  when  no  one  is  keenly  dis- 
posed to  active  physical  effort  and  at  no  time  in  the 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    273 

year  is  there  that  atmospheric  incitation  to  physical 
activity  that  exists  in  England  or  in  our  own  country. 
It  may  well  be  that  children  of  the  South  do  not  take 
kindly  to  play  because  of  the  great  and  protracted  heat, 
during  which  they  are  taught  to  remain  within  doors 
several  hours  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  children 
of  the  lower  classes  are  often  obliged  to  work  during  the 
cool  hours. 

Italian  children  mature  very  early,  and  the  emo- 
tional disequilibrium  that  comes  with  the  supremacy 
of  a  new  internal  secretion  makes  them  self-conscious, 
bashful,  retiring,  and  inimical  to  play.  I  am  not  in- 
clined to  lay  much  stress  on  any  of  these  occurrences 
as  an  explanation  for  the  apathy  for  play  shown  by 
Italian  children.  Jewish  children,  who  live  in  coun- 
tries quite  as  hot  as  Italy,  and  who  certainly  mature 
as  early  as  Italian  children,  are  naturally  playful,  and 
not  only  playful  but  inventive  of  games.  If  one  reads 
the  biographies  of  some  of  the  literary  Hebrews  of 
America  who  have  set  forth  in  print  their  renuncia- 
tions and  their  successes,  it  will  be  seen  that  despite 
their  most  unfavorable  surroundings  the  play  instinct 
in  childhood — which,  after  all,  is  the  imaginative  fac- 
ulty— is  often  very  strong. 

Another  thing  that  is  very  curious  in  Italy  is  that 
children  of  both  sexes  do  not  play  together.  It  is  true 
that  no  particular  effort  is  made  to  keep  them  apart 
when  they  are  very  young,  but  there  is  no  more  un- 
usual sight  in  Italy  than  a  boy  from  ten  to  fourteen 
with  a  girl  of  the  same  age,  unless  it  is  to  see  a  young 
man  with  a  young  woman  who  is  not  his  wife.  There 
is  no  open  and  fraternizing  relationship  between  the 
sexes.     If  you  say  in  Italy  that  a  young  woman  is  the 


274  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

arnica  or  friend  of  a  man,  you  mean  what  is  signified 
in  French  by  chere  amie.  In  certain  parts  of  Italy, 
and  particularly  in  the  South,  the  position  of  women 
in  society  and  in  relationship  to  men  savors  very  much 
of  the  Oriental. 

Every  one  is  agreed  that  play  does  two  things  for 
the  young  child — it  promotes  its  physical  welfare  and 
it  facilitates  its  budding  imagination.  More  than  this, 
it  contributes  materially  to  its  education  and,  particu- 
larly, it  develops  its  constructive  faculties.  It  teaches 
older  children  and  youths  who  participate  in  games  of 
skill  and  control  the  principles  of  give  and  take,  bear 
and  forbear,  and  it  shows  them  how  to  be  victors  with- 
out arrogance  and  losers  without  venom.  It  instils 
principles  of  honesty,  favors  frankness  and  directness, 
and  generally  paves  the  way  for  successful  dealing 
with  their  fellows  socially,  commercially,  and  politically 
in  mature  life.  When  one  considers  the  pains  and 
money  that  are  expended  in  our  own  country  and  in 
England  to  teach  young  people  how  to  play,  it  is 
astonishing  how  apathetic  the  Italians  have  been 
toward  the  matter. 

My  belief  is  that  Italy  is  awakening  to  the  fact  that 
play  is  one  of  the  most  important  factors  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  people,  and  if  this  war  had  not  come  on 
I  should  most  likely  not  have  had  occasion  to  make 
these  observations  and  to  draw  conclusions  from  them. 
I  am  told  that  a  few  years  ago  they  began  to  have 
mixed  schools,  that  is,  schools  where  children  of  both 
sexes  are  assembled  during  school  hours,  and  in  many 
cities  there  were  stadia  where  sports  of  all  sorts  were 
encouraged  and  fostered. 

There  are  many  factors  that  have  tended  to  im- 


THE  PLAY  INSTINCT  IN  CHILDREN    275 

pede  the  development  of  play  in  this  country  and  the 
recognition  of  its  importance,  but  aside  from  that 
there  is  something  in  the  Italian  temperament  or 
nature  that  is  antipathic  to  the  play  instinct  and 
inimical  to  sports.  Pedagogy  has  recognized  its  im- 
portance but  it  has  not  succeeded  in  promoting  and 
developing  it. 

I  have  often  wondered  whether  the  suppression  of 
the  play  instinct  practically  to  the  point  of  abnegation 
is  not  manifest  in  the  energies  and  success  of  a  people. 
Aside  from  the  field  of  mechanical  application  as  rep- 
resented by  that  in  the  profession  of  engineering,  I  do 
not  know  of  any  realm  in  which  the  Italian  of  the  past 
three  or  four  generations  has  signally  distinguished 
himself.  There  have  been  poets,  artists,  architects, 
physicians,  priests,  statesmen,  philosophers,  explorers, 
or  interpreters  of  life  and  events  whose  names  have 
taken  permanent  places  in  the  world.  I  mean  to  say 
that  in  this  period  there  have  been  many  Italians  who 
have  attained  eminence  and  earned  immortality,  but 
there  has  been  no  one  from  whom  an  epoch  dates:  no 
Pasteur,  no  Deisler,  no  Thompson,  no  Devries,  no 
Stanley,  no  Edison,  no  Langley,  no  Wright,  no  Mor- 
gan, no  Eddy — to  enumerate  only  a  few  of  those  that 
are  legitimately  put  in  the  class  of  supermen. 

This  paucity  of  genius  may  be  no  more  than  a 
coincidence,  but  it  strikes  me,  nevertheless,  as  ex- 
traordinary that  a  country  which  has  enjoyed  free- 
dom as  this  country  has  for  the  past  fifty  years,  has 
not  manifested  the  fruits  of  its  liberation  from  tyranny 
and  oppression  »uch  as  were  manifested  in  France 
after  the  French  Revolution,  when  once  its  devasta- 
tion had  been  cured. 


276  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

If  the  child  is  father  to  the  man,  it  stands  to  reason 
that  indulgence  and  training  during  childhood  will 
manifest  their  effect  during  maturity,  and  success  in 
any  activity  of  human  life  stands  in  direct  relation  to 
imagination  or  vision  and  industry.  It  likewise  fol- 
lows that  if  we  neglect  to  facilitate  the  development 
of  the  former  and  to  develop  the  appetite  for  and  form 
the  habit  of  the  latter  during  the  early  years  of  life, 
it  is  too  much  to  expect  the  display  of  them  in  later 
years.  It  is  quite  possible,  it  seems  to  me,  that  the 
reputation  for  lack  of  directness  in  their  dealings  with 
the  peoples  of  other  nationalities,  their  circuitousness 
in  the  business  affairs  of  life,  their  secrecy  or  lack 
of  frankness  and  candor,  their  ceremoniousness,  their 
failure  to  cement  a  solid  friendship  with  other  nations 
of  Europe,  may,  in  some  measure  at  least,  be  linked 
up  with  the  suppression  of  the  play  instinct  in  child- 
hood and  the  subservient  place  which  they  have  given 
to  women. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH  IN  THE  NIGHT,  HE  STUM- 

BLETH  BUT  IF  HE  WALKETH  IN  THE  DAY  HE 

SEETH  THE  LIGHT  OF  THIS  WORLD" 

My  morning  walks  take  me  the  length  of  the  Janicu- 
lum.  In  the  early  light  of  these  autumn  days  Rome 
and  its  settings  take  on  an  expression  of  seductive  resig- 
nation due  largely  to  the  clouds  which  rob  it  of  that 
glare  which  is  the  most  trying  feature  of  summer  in 
Rome.  The  clouds  permit  streams  of  light  to  filter 
through,  as  if  from  a  monstrous  search-light,  especially 
over  the  Castelli  Romani  and  the  Alban  Hills.  Ordi- 
narily Monte  Cavo  is  on  the  horizon  line,  but  to-day, 
after  the  sun  had  been  nearly  an  hour  on  its  diurnal 
way,  hundreds  of  parallel  bundles  of  light  were  directed 
perpendicularly  upon  it,  so  that  another  chain  of 
mountains  came  into  view  beyond,  and  the  decaying 
villa  surmounting  it  seemed  to  be  in  a  valley  atop  of  a 
mountain  peak  backed  by  other  peaks.  The  way  from 
my  villino  to  St.  Peter's  is  past  the  Garibaldi  monu- 
ment, and  I  am  well  acquainted  with  the  countenances 
of  his  generals  and  his  guard,  whose  life-size  busts  in 
marble  flank  the  monument  in  long,  parallel  rows, 
constituting  an  alley  leading  up  to  it.  If  their  effigies 
do  them  justice,  they  were  fine-looking,  intelligent, 
and  resolute. 

It  takes  me  also  past  the  hideous  lighthouse  which 
Argentina  thrust  upon  the  Italians,  and  which  has 
been  erected  upon  a  spot  from  which  one  has  peihaps 

277 


278  IDLING   IN  ITALY 

the  most  commanding  view  of  Rome,  its  near  and 
distant  environment. 

This  morning  I  determined  that  I  would  spend  a 
half-hour  in  the  Church  of  S.  Onofrio  and  refresh  my 
recollections  of  the  frescoes  of  Baldassare  Peruzzi  and 
of  Pinturicchio,  and  pay  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
the  greatest  poet  of  the  late  Renaissance,  Torquato 
Tasso.  On  the  side  of  the  steps  that  lead  down  to  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill  surmounting  St.  Peter's  is  an  oak- 
tree,  long  since  dead,  but  securely  banded  and  spliced 
and  propped  by  indestructible  metal.  Here,  it  is  said, 
Tasso  sat  and  contemplated,  too  forlorn  and  ill  fur- 
ther to  poetize,  during  those  months  of  1594  while  he 
was  awaiting  his  call  to  the  capitol  to  be  crowned  poet 
laureate.  When  the  illness  to  which  he  succumbed 
increased  to  such  extent  as  to  incapacitate  him  he 
repaired  to  S.  Onofrio  "to  begin  my  conversation  in 
heaven  in  this  elevated  place,  and  in  the  society  of 
these  holy  fathers."  It  is  strange  enough  that  Tasso 
is  a  very  real  and  living  force  in  Italy  to-day.  Not 
only  are  many  of  his  poems,  and  selections  from  them, 
read  in  the  schools,  but  "Jerusalem  Delivered"  on  the 
screen  has  recently  had  a  remarkable  success  in  Rome 
and  in  other  cities  of  Italy. 

The  Convent  of  S.  Onofrio  is  now  scarcely  more 
than  a  reminder  of  what  it  was  in  its  golden  days. 
Long  before  the  Italian  Government  had  abolished  the 
right  of  monasteries  to  hold  property,  and  therefore 
delivered  the  death-blow  to  the  parasitical  grasp  which 
they  had  upon  this  country,  the  Ospedale  Bambini 
Gesu  had  taken  possession  of  a  large  part  of  it  and 
converted  it  into  a  work  of  mercy  and  of  salvation 
which  finds,  I  fancy,  more  favor  in  the  eyes  of  people 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  279 

to-day  than  does  conventual  life.  The  church,  rather 
impressive  from  without  and  particularly  when  ap- 
proached from  below,  is  small  and  dainty  and  has  dis- 
tinctly a  spiritual  atmosphere.  It  is  what  the  Italians 
call  molto  carina.  When  I  entered  the  church  there 
was  one  solitary  female  prostrate  before  an  image.  I 
fancied  that  she  had  had  a  troubled  night  and  had 
repaired  to  this  sacrosanct  environment  early  in  the 
morning  to  purge  herself  of  her  sins  and  to  ask  forgive- 
ness. For  a  long  time  she  remained  in  an  attitude  of 
profound  contrition,  and  I  was  curious  to  see  if,  on 
arising,  she  displayed  in  feature  or  in  form  any  evi- 
dences or  manifestations  of  indulgence  in  those  trans- 
gressions which  we  are  taught  are  so  offensive  to  the 
Lord.  My  vigil  was  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  age, 
deprivation,  and  poverty.  Had  pulchritude  or  pas- 
sion ever  been  a  part  of  her,  all  sign  of  them  had 
passed;  had  sins  of  commission  ever  brought  to  her 
riches  or  the  semblance  of  riches,  she  had  long  since 
forfeited  them;  had  her  transgressions  been  translated 
into  fugitive  pleasures,  no  signs  of  them  remained. 
Like  Tasso,  she  had  repaired  there  to  begin  the  con- 
versation she  hoped  to  continue  in  heaven.  It  is  much 
more  likely,  however,  that  she  had  gone  to  church 
without  definite  antecedent  thought  or  determination. 
It  seems  to  be  as  much  an  act  of  nature  for  women  in 
Italy  when  they  reach  a  certain  age  to  haunt  the 
churches  as  it  is  for  their  hair  to  turn  gray.  They  do 
it  quite  as  mechanically  as  they  do  their  housework. 
I  often  doubt  that  there  is  any  spiritual  or  emotional 
feeling  accompanying  it  whatsoever.  I  am  certain 
that  the  recitation  of  prayers  which  were  learned  in 
infancy,  and  which  have  been  repeated  thousands  of 


280  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

times  without  the  smallest  attention  to  the  significance 
of  the  words,  as  children  recite  them,  is  not  associated 
with  any  spiritual  alteration,  neither  humility  nor  ex- 
altation. It  is  part  of  the  meagre,  barren  daily  life 
of  these  old  women,  and  they  get  from  it  something 
which  for  them  constitutes  pleasure  and  satisfaction. 

As  I  sat  in  contemplation  of  the  frescoes  surround- 
ing the  high  altar,  and  which  set  forth  the  coronation 
of  the  Virgin,  the  Nativity,  the  Flight  into  Egypt,  a 
middle-aged  monk  or  priest  came  forward  and  volun- 
teered to  draw  the  curtain  that  more  light  might  fall 
upon  them.  He  was  incredibly  dirty  and  dishevelled, 
and  he  had  lost  an  eye,  but  he  was  gentle  and  simple 
and  friendly.  He  told  me  what  he  knew  about  the 
frescoes;  he  bemoaned  the  evil  days  upon  which  the 
world  had  fallen,  and  he  expressed  the  hope  that  peace 
and  tranquillity  would  soon  again  be  ours;  but  when 
I  attempted  to  talk  to  him  about  the  significance  of 
the  war  and  the  universal  awakement  to  man's  rights 
that  would  flow  from  it,  I  found  that  his  comments 
were  ejaculatory  and  that  his  reflections  had  no  root 
in  thought  or  reason.  It  is  incredible  that  a  person  so 
naive  and  so  lacking  in  every  display  of  intelligence, 
culture,  and  perspicacity  can  be  a  spiritual  teacher  or 
guide.  Perhaps  it  is  that  faith  alone  is  necessary  that 
one  shall  satisfactorily  fulfil  his  duties  as  priest. 

He  called  my  attention  to  an  oil  graphite  on  the 
side  walls  of  the  chapel  which  had  been  uncovered  in 
recent  times.  In  early  days  its  artistic  merit  or  value 
was  not  appreciated  and  it  had  been  covered  over 
with  other  pastels  or  paintings  thought  to  be  more 
appropriate  or  more  fitting.  The  composition  is  a 
figure  standing  in  what  seems  to  be  a  square  box  and 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  281 

on  either  side  a  number  of  closely  massed  masculine 
figures,  each  one  having  a  different  facial  expression, 
one  of  astonishment,  another  of  incredulity,  another 
of  humility  and  satisfaction.  It  depicted  the  Resur- 
rection of  Christ,  my  little  friend  thought,  but  when 
he  saw  a  figure  outside  the  box  that  resembled  Christ, 
he  thought  it  must  be  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus,  and 
then  in  the  most  childlike  way  he  remarked  that  the 
figure  in  the  box  seemed  to  be  a  female  one,  and  as 
that  didn't  seem  to  fit  in  with  the  resurrection  of 
Lazarus  he  gave  it  up.  I  fancy  that  he  had  never 
read  that  when  Martha  and  Mary  made  their  success- 
ful appeal  Lazarus  had  been  dead  four  days,  and  that 
after  Jesus  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  said,  "Father,  I 
thank  thee  that  thou  hast  heard  me,"  Lazarus  came 
forth  bound  hand  and  foot  with  grave-clothes  and  his 
face  was  bound  about  with  a  napkin.  These  accoutre- 
ments of  the  grave  would  successfully  conceal  sex, 
even  from  the  eyes  of  a  sacerdotal  Sherlock  Holmes. 

I  persuaded  him  to  take  me  into  the  convent  that  I 
might  see  Leonardo's  lovely  fresco  of  the  Virgin  and 
the  Child,  and  standing  before  it  he  spoke  of  the 
sweetness  of  the  mother's  expression  and  of  the  dig- 
nity and  nobility  of  her  pose  and  carriage  in  a  way 
that  made  me  forget  his  ignorance  and  his  unattrac- 
tive exterior. 

In  the  northwest  chapel  of  the  little  church  is  the 
grave  and  monument  of  Tasso.  There  is  nothing  par- 
ticularly meritorious  about  the  monument,  and  there 
is  nothing  even  suggestive  of  poetry.  The  effigy  rep- 
resents the  poet  in  the  costume  of  a  Spanish  cavalier 
as  he  appeared  at  the  age  of  his  greatest  activity.  The 
chapel  opposite  is  a  jungle  of  frescoes  depicting  scenes 


282  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

in  the  life  of  S.  Onofrio,  who  lived  like  an  animal  in 
the  desert  for  more  than  half  a  century,  and  who,  for 
thus  outraging  nature's  laws,  was  brought  to  Rome  to 
teach  others  how  to  live  acceptably  in  God's  eyes. 
After  he  had  gone  to  his  final  reward,  which  we  trust 
was  the  opposite  of  a  desert,  the  church  in  its  wisdom 
made  him  a  saint. 

I  did  not  attempt  to  visualize  the  desert-dweller  or 
his  activities  as  I  descended  the  steps  that  lead  from 
this  lovely  hill  to  the  Tiber,  for  I  was  soon  lost  in  con- 
templation of  a  view  with  which  I  was  very  familiar 
but  which  now  presents  itself  at  a  different  angle,  for 
I  had  never  been  down  this  well-worn  stone  staircase. 
The  little  street  led  first  past  the  fine  old  Salviati 
Palace,  a  vast,  massive  structure  built  apparently  to 
provide  a  sumptuous  piano  nobile  and  a  great  impres- 
sive court.  It  has,  I  suppose,  a  definite  architectural 
beauty,  but  to  me  it  looks  merely  massive,  cumber- 
some, and  overgrown.  It  reminds  of  nothing  so  much 
as  of  a  lady  whose  figure,  once  worthy  of  admira- 
tion, had  become  altered  by  the  adipose  that  is  fatal 
to  beauty.  From  here  it  is  but  a  few  steps  to  the 
Villa  Farnesina,  with  its  priceless  possessions  from 
Raphael's  hand,  but  my  way  leads  me  across  the 
rickety  iron  suspension  bridge  immediately  in  front 
of  the  Salviati  Palace,  to  cross  which  one  must  pay  a 
penny.  From  the  middle  of  this  bridge  one  gets  a 
stunning  view  of  the  Castle  of  S.  Angelo  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  Hospital.  The  latter,  an  enormous  Renaissance 
structure,  accommodates  upward  of  five  thousand  pa- 
tients. It  looks  to-day  much  as  illustrations  of  it 
show  that  it  looked  five  hundred  years  ago.  In  those 
days  it  was  the  last  cry  in  hospitals,  but  it  is  far  from 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  283 

that  to-day.  In  fact,  as  a  hospital  it  leaves  much  to 
be  desired.  I  go  there  sometimes  to  visit  the  library, 
which  has  one  of  the  largest  collections  of  incunabuli 
in  the  world.  As  you  look  over  it  from  the  end  of  the 
Ponte  Ferro,  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  seems  as  if  it 
were  suspended  from  the  heaven  and  its  marvellous 
symmetry  is  most  impressive.  When  you  look  at  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's  and  the  church  together,  there  is 
something  a  little  incongruous.  I  do  not  attempt  to 
define  it,  but  it  is  the  same  thing  that  you  get  when 
you  look  at  a  man  whose  hat  doesn't  fit. 

After  crossing  the  Tiber  I  strike  into  the  heart  of 
the  densely  populated  city  through  a  succession  of 
narrow  streets  without  sidewalks,  and  flanked  on 
either  side  with  never-ending  little  shops,  now  and 
then  crossing  a  piazza  which  gives  space  and  light  to 
some  massive  mediaeval  palace.  But  none  of  them 
solicits  me  to  stop  until  the  Palazzo  Braschi  comes 
into  view.  I  have  seen  its  wondrous  staircase,  with 
its  many  columns  of  Oriental  granite,  so  often  that  I 
would  pass  it  by  without  a  thought  were  it  not  for  the 
brutally  hideous  figure  of  Pasquino,  who  greets  me 
from  his  pedestal  like  an  old  acquaintance.  I  realize 
quite  well  that  he  has  been  called  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  remains  of  antique  sculpture,  and  that  the 
expert  eye,  guided  by  a  knowledge  of  Hellenic  art 
supremity,  may  see  charm  and  wondrousness  in  it, 
but  I  have  bid  him  good-morning  and  good-day  many 
times,  and,  like  some  old  acquaintances,  he  does  not 
get  nearer  my  heart  as  I  learn  to  know  him  better. 
There  have  been  innumerable  conjectures  as  to  what 
the  figure  represents.  The  one  most  generally  ac- 
cepted is  that  it  represents  Menelaus  supporting  the 


284  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

dead  body  of  Patroclus  after  the  vile  Trojan  had 
stabbed  him  in  the  back  while  Hector  was  engaging 
his  attention.  You  have  such  a  feeling  of  pride  in 
Patroclus  and  the  wonderful  things  that  he  did  with 
his  Myrmidons  that  your  heart  goes  out  to  him. 
When  the  Trojan  War  was  going  badly,  he  was  per- 
suaded to  take  up  the  direction  of  the  forces  against 
the  enemy,  and  one  cannot  help  feeling  grateful  to 
Menelaus  for  having  played  the  good  Samaritan  to 
him  at  the  end.  But  if  this  old  King  of  Sparta  had 
made  Helen  behave  better  when  Paris  came  to  visit 
them,  she  might  never  have  eloped  with  that  hazard- 
ous youth  after  he  had  made  the  memorable  decision 
on  Mount  Ida,  spurning  power  promised  by  Juno,  and 
glory  and  renown  tendered  by  Minerva,  in  order  that 
he  might  have  the  fairest  woman  in  the  world  for 
wife.  But  one  should  not  be  too  hard  on  the  old  king. 
There  is  no  telling  just  how  far  Helen  acted  on  her 
own  initiative  and  how  far  Venus  was  responsible  for 
the  flight.  Still,  were  it  not  for  this  little  irregularity 
in  the  conduct  of  the  royal  household,  we  would  have 
been  denied  a  knowledge  of  the  greatness  of  Greece 
and  a  record  of  its  accomplishments  in  one  of  the 
greatest  poems,  which  has  been  a  solace  and  a  stimu- 
lation to  countless  lovers  of  literature  the  past  two 
thousand  years. 

Though  I  bring  no  trained  eye  or  accurate  informa- 
tion to  the  discussion  of  Pasquino's  identity,  I  am  con- 
vinced, since  seeing  the  bronze  statue  of  a  boxer  which 
Lanciani  unearthed  in  excavating  the  Baths  of  Con- 
st antine  in  1885,  that  this  statue  is  no  other  than  an 
early  marble  setting  forth  the  same  subject.  To  me 
it  is  the  effigy  of  a  fighting  brute.    Whatever  his  name 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  285 

or  his  profession  may  have  been,  he  has  become  known 
the  world  over  as  Pasquino,  and  satires  and  sarcasms 
similar  to  those  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  uttered 
to  the  amusement  and  edification  of  the  Romans  in 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  have  become 
known  as  pasquinades  all  over  the  world. 

Italians  like  to  write  stories  concerning  historic  in- 
cidents and  to  embellish  them  with  a  veneer  of  veri- 
similitude. They  like  particularly  to  give  them  a  per- 
sonal note,  deprecatory  or  laudatory.  When  the 
Egyptian  obelisk  was  being  forced  to  a  perpendicular 
position  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peters,  the  crowd  had 
been  admonished  under  penalty  of  death  to  be  silent. 
The  stillness  of  the  piazza,  broken  only  by  the  creak- 
ing of  the  ropes,  was  suddenly  torn  asunder  by  a  shout 
of  "Wet  the  ropes."  Thus  the  famous  obelisk  was 
preserved  intact,  and  the  man  whose  discernment  had 
accomplished  it,  instead  of  having  his  head  cut  off, 
was  allowed  to  furnish  the  palms  for  St.  Peter's  every 
Palm  Sunday.  Incidentally  he  was  ennobled,  and 
since  that  time  his  reward  has  been  the  family's  chief 
asset.  In  the  same  way,  one  of  the  river  gods  of  the 
fountain  set  up  in  the  middle  of  the  Piazza  Navona 
seems  to  be  drawing  a  mantle  up  over  his  head  while 
the  others,  those  of  the  Danube,  the  Ganges,  and  the 
Rio  della  Plata,  are  looking  straight  ahead.  Bernini, 
who  built  the  fountain,  says  that  Nile  was  so  shocked 
by  the  facade  which  Borromini,  a  contemporary  archi- 
tect, added  to  the  Church  of  St.  Agnes,  which  is  imme- 
diately in  front  of  it,  that  he  had  to  veil  his  face. 

The  story  of  Pasquino  is  that  he  asked  questions 
concerning  the  conduct  of  the  reigning  power,  which, 
of  course,  in  those  days  was  the  pope,  and  made  reflec- 


286  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

tions  which  Marforio,  the  river  god  which  stood  be- 
tween the  horse-tamers  in  the  Piazza  della  Quirinale, 
answered.  Pasquino,  in  short,  became  the  organ  of 
public  opinion,  and  it  was  not  subject  to  the  censor, 
for  the  authors  prudently  kept  out  of  sight.  His  most 
poisonous  venom  and  destructive  wrath  were  directed 
against  popes  and  cardinals.  If  he  said  the  things 
that  he  is  alleged  to  have  said  about  Alexander  VI 
and  Innocent  XI  (the  holy  man  who  started  the 
Inquisition),  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  one  of  their 
successors  wished  to  throw  him  into  the  bottom  of  the 
Tiber,  the  resting-place  of  countless  priceless  objects 
of  art  for  many  centuries.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  how- 
ever, the  stories  about  Pasquino  to  be  found  in  every 
guide-book  are,  like  many  other  stories  when  run  to 
earth,  largely  fiction. 

Thirty  years  ago  there  was  published  in  the  Nuova 
Antologia  an  article  by  Domenico  Gnoli  which  sets 
forth  the  real  history  of  Pasquino.  When  Cardinal 
Carraffa  went  to  live  in  the  Braschi  Palace  he  had 
the  statue  set  up  at  one  of  the  corners,  and  there  it 
has  since  remained.  In  those  days  religious  proces- 
sions were  as  common  as  automobiles  and  bicycles 
are  to-day.  The  priests  in  them  often  rested  at  this 
corner,  and  it  became  the  custom  to  make  up  the 
statue  to  represent  different  personages,  and  the  man 
who  was  intrusted  with  this  task  happened  to  be  a 
professor  in  the  adjacent  university.  He  encouraged 
his  boys  to  write  epilogues,  elegies,  and  epigrams 
which  they  pasted  or  stuck  on  the  statue.  At  first 
these  were  purely  literary  efforts,  juvenile  flights  to 
Parnassus,  but  later  they  took  on  a  political  and  social 
flavor,  while  still  later  they  became  concerned  with 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  287 

the  doings  of  the  Curia.  These  pasquinades  have  been 
collected  in  book  form,  and  some  of  the  volumes  exist 
at  the  present  time.  The  majority,  however,  have 
been  lost — perished  in  flames,  destroyed  as  having  no 
value,  or  disappeared  in  other  ways.  Thus  the  statue 
was  initiated  as  a  news-bearer  or  organ  of  public 
opinion. 

Immediately  across  the  road  from  the  statue  there 
was  a  tailor  or  barber  shop,  and  the  name  of  the  chief 
operator  was  Pasquino.  It  was  in  this  shop  that  the 
messages  stuck  on  the  statue  were  collected,  deciphered, 
and  discussed,  and  when  the  witty  tailor  died  they 
gave  his  name  to  the  statue  and  thus  immortality  was 
thrust  upon  him.  In  reality,  after  the  cessation  of  the 
publications,  "Carmina  quae  ad  Pasquillum  fuerunt 
posita  in  anno,"  and  the  murder  of  the  professor  who 
had  encouraged  his  students  to  put  forth  their  youthful 
efforts,  men  groaning  under  the  oppression  of  their 
rulers,  men  big  with  ideas  of  what  we  now  call  liberty, 
men  in  whom  the  germs  of  freedom  and  equality  had 
been  implanted,  saw  a  fairly  safe  way  of  getting  their 
sentiments  before  the  public,  and  they  utilized  Pas- 
quino as  a  forum  from  which  they  could  radiate  their 
ideas  and  their  sentiments.  During  the  entire  six- 
teenth century  these  men  conveyed  to  the  Borgias  and 
to  Julius  II  and  Paul  III  and  Innocent  X  and  Inno- 
cent XI  and  Pius  VI  an  expression  of  their  feeling  and 
conviction  concerning  their  conduct,  individually  and 
collectively.  Whether  these  contributions  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  shaping  public  opinion  and  leading 
up  to  the  great  Reformation,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 

Whatever  Pasquino  accomplished  or  didn't  accom- 
plish seems  not  to  concern  him,  for  there  he  sits  tran- 


288  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

quiily  upon  six  blocks  of  volcanic  stone,  indifferent  to 
the  passing  show  and  to  the  transpirations  of  the 
world. 

A  few  paces  beyond  the  Palazzo  Braschi  I  suddenly 
come  upon  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  alluring 
piazzas  in  Rome,  the  Piazza  Navona,  or,  as  it  is  some- 
times called,  the  Circo  Agonale.  By  its  oblong  form, 
its  seductive  symmetry,  its  elaborate  decorations— three 
beautiful  fountains,  the  central  one  surmounted  by  an 
Egyptian  obelisk  which  once  stood  in  the  Circus  of 
Maxentius;  by  its  boundaries,  which  include  the  Pa- 
lazzo Pamfili,  the  Church  of  S.  Agnese,  and  the  Church 
of  S.  Giacomo  of  the  Spaniards,  and  innumerable 
small  and  large  houses — it  succeeds  in  conveying  to  the 
observer,  who  is  susceptible  to  aesthetic  impressions, 
sensations  which  are  as  purely  pleasurable  as  anything 
can  possibly  be.  Were  it  not  for  the  distinctively 
Italian  architecture  one  might  easily  imagine  that  he 
was  in  the  centre  of  some  provincial  large  city  of 
France.  It  has,  more  than  any  other  public  square 
that  I  have  ever  been  in,  that  quality  which  we  speak 
of  as  foreign.  No  two  buildings  are  alike,  and,  mean 
though  many  of  them  are,  and  especially  toward  the 
northern  end,  they  blend  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce 
a  perfect  harmony  of  color  and  architectural  effect. 
In  olden  times  they  held  races  here,  and  I  can  imagine 
how  marvellous  a  sight  it  must  have  been  with  the 
palaces  and  houses  gayly  decked  with  flags  and  drapery, 
rich  rugs  hanging  from  the  window-sills,  on  which 
leaned  beautiful  ladies,  frail  and  strong,  attended  so- 
licitously, perhaps  watchfully,  by  cavaliers  and  ad- 
mirers, and  the  square  below  filled  with  the  pleasure- 
loving  crowd  whose  conduct  betrayed  nothing  else  save 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  289 

a  desire  to  be  amused  and  diverted.  During  the  sum- 
mer I  often  sat  for  a  half-hour  on  my  way  home  in 
this  square,  and,  while  watching  the  countless  children 
from  the  surrounding  tenements  in  those  simple  indul- 
gences which  they  call  play,  tried  to  fancy  some  of  the 
events  that  had  taken  place  in  the  square  and  in  the 
palaces  and  churches  bordering  it. 

It  was  in  the  Pamfili  Palace,  built  by  Innocent 
X  in  1650  for  his  predatory  and  dissolute  sister- 
in-law,  Olympia  Malacchimi,  that  the  fortunes  of 
the  Pamfili  family  began.  Here  she  sold  bishoprics 
and  beneficences,  and  here  she  externalized  that  con- 
duct which  brought  infamy  on  her  name.  What  a 
story  an  account  of  the  intimate  doings  of  that  family 
would  make !  Their  palace  in  the  Corso  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  Renaissance  residences  in  the  world, 
and  their  villa  on  the  Janiculum  is  an  approximation 
to  a  rural  paradise.  All  that  is  left  of  the  family  is  a 
faded,  sad,  suggestible,  middle-aged  princess,  whose 
English  appearance  and  manner  betray  a  lifelong  habit 
of  emotional  suppression,  and  one  son  who  is  eking  out 
his  miserable  days  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland. 

Immediately  adjacent  to  the  palace  is  the  Church  of 
St.  Agnes,  built  about  the  same  time  and  on  the  spot 
where  the  girl  whose  name  it  commemorates  was  sup- 
posed to  have  had  miraculous  delivery  from  humilia- 
tions and  outrages  similar  to  those  to  which  the  Bel- 
gian nuns  were  subjected  by  the  Germans.  I  say 
" Germans' ■  advisedly,  for  I  am  unable  to  understand 
why  any  one  should  think  for  a  moment  that  the  term 
"Hun,"  so  widely  applied  to  them,  carries  with  it  any 
such  obloquy  or  opprobrium  as  the  simple  name  "Ger- 
man."   I  venture  to  say  that  in  years  to  come,  when 


290  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

any  one  wishes  to  describe  abominations,  cruelties, 
savageries  for  which  no  name  is  adequate,  he  will  use 
the  term  "Germanic."  Then  even  the  most  inexperi- 
enced in  crime  and  sin  will  get  a  glimmering  of  what 
is  meant. 

It  is  related  that  when  Agnes  was  about  fourteen 
years  old  she  was  taken  to  a  lupanalia  and  there,  bereft 
of  all  her  clothing,  became  the  target  of  the  word  and 
the  conduct  of  a  group  of  lubricitous  monsters.  Over- 
whelmed with  shame,  her  head  fell  upon  her  chest  and 
she  prayed.  Immediately  her  hair  took  on  such  mirac- 
ulous growth  that  it  concealed  her  nakedness.  But 
there  were  other  more  startling  experiences  in  store 
for  her.  For  her  rebelliousness  and  general  contumacy 
she  was  condemned  to  be  burned  alive.  When  the 
flames  were  about  to  devour  her  they  suddenly  became 
possessed  of  a  dual  quality,  one  radiating  refreshment 
upon  her,  the  other  destruction  upon  her  executioners. 
The  lady  had  many  other  experiences  which  have  long 
since  been  denied  her  sex,  but  it  is  popularly  believed 
that  she  devotes  much  attention  in  her  heavenly  home 
to  seeing  that  maidens  who  request  her  in  a  proper 
frame  of  mind  and  body,  which  for  the  latter  is  twenty- 
four  hours'  abstinence  from  everything  but  pure  spring 
water,  are  provided  with  husbands.  It  would  be 
trivial  of  me  to  add  that  she  probably  is  overworked 
these  days  when  so  many  prospective  husbands  are  at 
the  front,  but  I  have  no  real  information  on  the  mat- 
ter, and  I  sincerely  hope  that  the  nubile  Italians  have 
no  serious  difficulty  in  finding  spouses. 

From  here  my  route  is  to  the  Corso,  which  at  this 
early  hour  is  nearly  deserted.  There  are  many  streets 
that  I  may  take:   one  that  leads  to  the  Pantheon; 


"IF  A  MAN  WALKETH"  291 

another  that  goes  past  the  Palazzo  Madaraa  and  other 
interesting  public  and  private  buildings.  As  a  rule  I 
take  the  latter,  for  it  leads  me  to  the  Via  Condotti, 
which  ends  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  Before  the  war 
this  piazza  was  the  rendezvous  of  American  tourists. 
The  vendors  of  objects  of  art  and  of  Roman  pearls, 
the  antiquarian  who  had  his  wares  fabricated  around 
the  corner  or  in  the  Trastevere,  the  dealer  in  genuine 
Raphaels  and  Tintorettos,  the  rapacious  dealers  in  old 
books  are  all  there,  but  most  of  them  are  on  their 
knees  in  their  shops  with  half-closed  shutters,  praying 
for  the  war  to  end  so  that  the  gullible  rich  Americans 
may  come  again.  Their  prayers  are  heard  and  their 
supplications  will  soon  be  answered.  Meanwhile  I 
cast  a  glance  at  the  wretched  monument  erected  a 
half-century  ago  to  commemorate  the  promulgation  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  look  lov- 
ingly at  the  semi-sunken  boat-shaped  fountain  just  in 
front  of  the  steps,  and  begin  slowly  to  mount  the  most 
impressive  steps  in  Rome,  which  seem  to  lead  up  like 
heavenly  stairs  to  the  massive,  double-belfried  Church 
of  Trinita  dei  Monti,  with  the  graceful  Egyptian  obe- 
lisk in  front  of  it.  Nowadays  the  steps  are  not  so 
picturesque  as  I  have  often  seen  them  in  peace  time, 
when  lovely  artists'  models,  picturesque  loafers  and 
the  exponents  of  the  dolce  far  niente  collected  on  the 
steps  and  made,  in  conjunction  with  the  flowers  and 
plants  that  were  exhibited  there  for  sale,  an  almost 
unique  picture.  It  is  now  deserted  save  for  some 
hazardous  Greek  or  Italian  who  attempts  to  eke  out 
a  living  by  disposing  of  flowers  that  have  been  cam- 
ouflaged to  look  fresh.  Nevertheless  the  staircase  and 
its  environment  make  an  appeal  which  repeated  visits 


292  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

serve  only  to  increase.  From  the  top  of  it,  in  the 
little  square  in  front  of  the  church,  one  gets  an  attrac- 
tive, though  limited,  view  of  the  city  and  of  Monte 
Mario,  but  it  is  a  view  that  convinces  him  that  he  is 
in  a  city  quite  unlike  any  other  in  the  world. 

A  picturesque  old  woman  who  sells  papers  at  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs  has  made  a  regular  customer  out 
of  me,  and  I  scan  the  morning  news  as  I  ascend  the 
steps,  and  by  the  time  I  have  reached  the  top  I  find 
thoughts  of  beauty  and  of  the  good  old  days  are  be- 
ing replaced  by  thoughts  of  work  and  of  the  war. 
As  I  walk  across  the  Pincian  Hill  I  am  conscious  that 
I  am  big  with  joy  at  what  the  past  twenty-four  hours 
have  accomplished  at  the  battle-front,  and  throbbing 
with  anticipation  of  what  the  following  day  will  bring 
forth.  That  it  will  soon  bring  victory,  complete  and 
absolute,  even  the  professional  warrior  is  now  forced 
to  admit,  and  soon  we  shall  bask  again  in  the  light  of 
a  livable  world. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH 

The  shrieks  of  the  American  eagle  have  been  joyous 
sounds  to  American  ears  since  1776,  when  we  discov- 
ered his  capacity  to  render  our  hymn  of  freedom. 
Heretofore  our  national  bird  has  been  in  best  voice  on 
his  native  soil.  When  brought  to  Europe  by  statesman 
or  hero,  by  citizen  or  delegate,  it  was  found  that  cer- 
tain conditions  there  impaired  his  vocality  and  the 
flap  of  his  wings.  Suddenly  in  1918  all  this  changed. 
Conditions  were  not  only  favorable — they  were  ideal. 
Perched  upon  a  parapet  of  Guildhall,  sitting  majesti- 
cally on  the  Eiffel  Tower,  alight  on  the  campanile  that 
crowns  the  Capitoline  Hill,  his  shrieks  conveyed  a 
message  to  the  people  of  Europe  whose  ears  have 
awaited  it  longingly  for  centuries,  and  the  flapping  of 
his  wings  created  a  current  that  stimulated  and  ener- 
gized them.  Floating  majestically  through  the  em- 
pyrean, he  was  to  those  human  beings,  weary  of  war, 
of  tyranny,  and  of  privilege,  what  the  dove  was  to  the 
occupants  of  the  ark — the  emblem  of  salvation.  Noth- 
ing could  then  convince  the  peoples  of  Italy  that  this 
harbinger  of  hope  had  not  been  liberated  by  Woodrow 
Wilson.  I  cannot  believe  that  the  American  eagle 
has  permanently  forsaken  the  United  States  of  America. 
I  anticipate  hearing  there  again  the  familiar  scream. 
One  tolerates  him  better  at  home  than  in  Europe,  but 
I  must  accord  the  bird  great  sapiency  in  having  selected 

293 


294  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

the  autumn  of  1918  to  give  the  European  people  the 
opportunity  to  judge  of  the  quality  and  quantity  of  his 
vocal  production. 

It  is  a  platitude  to  say  that  no  prophet  or  potentate, 
no  king  or  conqueror  was  ever  greeted  with  such  spon- 
taneous, whole-hearted,  genuine  enthusiasm  as  Presi- 
dent Wilson  was  greeted  in  Italy,  and,  if  I  may  judge 
from  newspaper  accounts,  the  reception  which  was 
offered  him  there  was  not  unlike  that  which  he  received 
in  England  and  France.  He  went  to  Italy  when  its 
people  were  incensed  by  the  conduct  of  the  newly 
fledged  Jugoslavs,  and  when  the  press  was  in  the 
throes  of  inflammatory  polemics  over  the  fate  of  the 
Treaty  of  London.  It  was  widely  known  in  Italy  that 
President  Wilson  was  not  in  sympathy  with  the  Son- 
ninian  alleged  imperialistic  policies  and  that  he  was 
fully  in  sympathy  with  the  Jugoslav  aspirations. 
Nevertheless,  the  Italians,  from  royalty  to  peasant, 
welcomed  him  with  a  spontaneity  and  warmth,  an 
enthusiasm  and  whole-heartedness,  a  genuineness  and 
devotion  that  was  as  moving  as  anything  I  ever  wit- 
nessed. The  hour  of  his  arrival  in  Rome  was  not  defi- 
nitely known  until  shortly  before  he  arrived.  But 
despite  this  hundreds  of  people  remained  in  the  street 
all  night,  and  thousands  of  them  gathered  there  before 
sunrise  in  order  that  they  might  not  miss  the  oppor- 
tunity of  looking  upon  him  whom  they  firmly  believed 
to  be  the  apostle  of  liberty  and  freedom,  the  herald  of 
light  and  brotherly  love.  It  was  not  curiosity  alone 
that  prompted  them  to  this  effort  and  sacrifice  of  com- 
fort. Curiosity  undoubtedly  entered  into  it,  but  the 
potent  reason  for  the  outpouring  that  took  place  that 
memorable  January  was  that  their  presence  might  con- 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    295 

vey  to  our  President  an  expression  of  their  esteem  and 
an  earnest  of  their  appreciation  of  his  efforts. 

No  American,  though  he  had  the  heart  of  a  frog  and 
the  emotional  caliber  of  a  lizard,  could  suppress  the 
succession  of  thrills  that  mounted  from  his  bowels  to 
his  brain  on  seeing  with  what  dignity,  suavity,  and 
self-respecting  composure  their  Chief  Magistrate  com- 
ported himself  as  he  was  transported  through  the  Via 
Nazionale,  seated  beside  the  most  democratic  and  be- 
loved king  in  the  world.  Though  the  American  spec- 
tator had  spent  his  time  impregnating  with  venom 
darts  which  he  believed  he  would  gladly  drive  into  the 
President,  he  had  to  admit  that  there  was  a  man  who 
more  than  satisfied  all  of  Kipling's  "Ifs."  When  he 
encountered  him  later  in  the  Palazzo  del  Drago  acting 
as  host  at  the  table  of  his  country's  charming  ambassa- 
dress, or  at  Montecitorio,  where  he  told  the  Solons  of 
Italy  of  his  country's  hopes,  ideals,  aspirations,  and 
willingness,  or  in  less  solemn  moments  on  the  Capitol- 
ine,  when  he  received  the  honorary  citizenship  of 
Rome,  he  knew  that  his  first  impressions  were  founded 
in  verity  and  he  lent  a  willing  ear  to  the  screech  of  the 
American  eagle  which  revealed  itself  throughout  the 
entire  Italian  press.  Every  city  of  Italy  clamored  for 
a  visit,  and  though  he  spent  but  a  few  minutes  in 
Genoa  and  a  few  hours  in  Milan,  the  outpouring  of 
the  people  to  welcome  him  was  no  less  remarkable 
than  it  was  in  Rome.  The  tribute  which  Europe  gave 
Mr.  Wilson  seemed  to  depress  many  of  his  countrymen 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is  an  extraordi- 
nary thing  that  while  Europe  rocked  with  his  fame 
America  reeked  with  his  infamy. 

After  having  lived  two  years  in  Italy  I  found  many 


296  IDLING   IN  ITALY 

things  about  the  Italians  difficult  to  understand.  After 
having  lived  fifty  years  in  the  United  States  of  America 
I  find  some  things  about  the  Americans  beyond  com- 
prehension. Nothing  is  so  enigmatic  as  their  attitude 
toward  Woodrow  Wilson,  the  man  who  was  accorded 
higher  esteem  in  Europe  than  was  ever  vouchsafed 
mortal  man,  and  who  gave  and  has  since  given  earnest 
of  such  accord.  From  the  day  he  decided  to  repre- 
sent our  country  in  the  Peace  Conference  the  papers 
and  magazines  began  to  contain  the  material  from 
which  could  readily  be  formulated  a  new  hymn  of 
hate.  What  was  the  genesis  of  this  display?  What 
was  the  cause  of  this  distrust  ?  From  whence  did  this 
venom  emanate?  How  could  a  man  whose  life  was  a 
mirror  of  integrity,  whose  ideals  were  of  the  loftiest, 
and  who  attempted  to  conform  his  conduct  to  them 
excite  such  contempt?  Why  should  the  only  states- 
man who  had  revealed  the  ability  to  formulate  a  plan 
which,  put  in  operation,  led  to  cessation  of  hostilities, 
who  was  the  leader  in  formulating  the  terms  of  peace, 
and  who  insisted,  and  had  his  insistence  allowed,  that 
it  should  incorporate  a  covenant  whose  enforcement 
would  make  for  perpetual  peace,  be  hated  and  dis- 
trusted, vilified  and  traduced,  thwarted  and  misrepre- 
sented by  so  many  of  his  countrymen?  What  had  he 
done,  by  commission  or  omission,  that  such  treatment 
should  be  accorded  him?  I  propose  to  attempt  to 
answer  these  questions  and  thus  to  suggest  why  he  has 
been  a  failure  as  President.  I  know  the  replies  usually 
given  to  these  questions  by  his  depredators  and  de- 
famers.  "His  nature  is  so  imperious  and  his  temper  so 
tyrannical  that  he  cannot  co-operate  with  others;  he 
neither  solicits  advice  nor  heeds  counsel;  he  selects  his 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    297 

coadjutors,  aides,  and  advisers  from  those  whom  he 
knows  he  can  dominate;  the  passport  to  his  favor  is 
flattery,  and  intimacy  with  him  is  maintained  only  by 
the  cement  of  agreement;  he  neither  made  preparation 
for  war  when  there  was  ample  time  for  doing  so  nor  did 
he  wage  war  until  months  after  repeated  casus  belli; 
he  is  hypocritical  in  having  sought  and  accomplished 
election  under  the  slogan  'He  kept  us  out  of  war/  and 
immediately  on  being  elected  he  'thrust'  the  country 
into  war;  he  was  'too  proud  to  fight'  in  1916,  but  keen 
to  fight  in  1917;  he  has  hebrewphilia  and  popophobia; 
he  is  a  socialist  masquerading  as  a  liberal;  he  is  a  Bol- 
shevik beneath  the  mask  of  a  radical.  In  brief,  he  is 
temperamentally  unfit  to  be  President  of  the  United 
States;  intellectually  and  morally  unfit  to  represent  its 
people;  and  withal  so  completely  under  the  dominion 
of  an  insatiate  ambition  to  be  the  greatest  man  the 
world  has  ever  known  that  every  kindly  human  feeling 
has  been  crowded  from  him." 

Intelligent,  educated  men  who  have  never  seen  him, 
who  know  little  of  his  career  save  that  he  was  presi- 
dent of  Princeton  University  and  governor  of  the  State 
of  New  Jersey  and  twice  President  of  the  United  States, 
elected  by  the  Democratic  party,  hate  him  as  if  he 
were  a  bitter  personal  enemy,  malign  him  as  if  he  had 
injured  their  reputation  for  honesty  and  probity, 
calumniate  him  as  though  he  were  a  man  without 
character,  depreciate  him  as  though  his  career  were 
barren  of  signal  accomplishment,  and  distrust  his 
motives  and  procedures  as  though  he  had  once,  or 
many  times,  betrayed  them.  Men  who  are  unable 
to  give  the  smallest  specificity  to  their  dislike  of  him 
feel  that  they  add  to  their  stature  by  detracting  from 


298  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

his  accomplishments  and  defaming  him.  Not  one  of 
them  with  whom  I  have  talked  has  been  able  to  state 
the  facts  of  his  disagreement  and  rupture  with  the 
trustees  of  Princeton  University.  My  understanding 
was  that  he  insisted  that  the  university  should  sub- 
mit to  certain  reforms  that  would  make  it  democratic 
in  reality  as  well  as  in  name,  and  that  would  enhance 
its  pedagogical  usefulness,  and  that  there  should  not 
be  a  privileged  class  in  the  university,  viz.,  members  of 
exclusive  clubs  whose  portals  were  opened  by  money. 
He  maintained  that  his  training  as  an  educator,  his 
experience  as  an  administrator,  his  accomplishment 
as  a  student  of  history  and  as  an  interpreter  of  events, 
his  experience  with  men,  entitled  him  to  a  judgment 
concerning  the  needs  of  such  an  institution  that  should 
be  given  a  hearing,  and  he  contended  that  his  recom- 
mendations, rather  than  those  of  trustees  whose  train- 
ing had  been  largely  in  the  world  of  affairs,  be  put  in 
operation  and  at  least  be  given  a  trial.  He  had  the 
courage  to  jeopardize  his  very  bread  and  butter,  and 
that  of  his  family,  at  a  time  in  his  life  when  his  physical 
forces  had  reached  their  zenith  rather  than  sacrifice 
what  he  believed  to  be  a  principle.  The  men  who 
were  permitted  to  take  Woodrow  Wilson's  measure 
in  that  contest  had  no  more  idea  of  his  stature  than 
if  they  were  blind.  They  would  have  laughed  to  scorn 
the  idea  that  five  years  later  the  people  of  the  United 
States  would  select  him  for  their  president.  It  was 
in  this  episode  that  his  repute  not  to  be  able  to  do 
team-work  with  his  equals  and  his  inferiors  originated. 
Time  has  shown  that  it  isn't  only  a  question  of  being 
able  to  do  team-work,  he  cannot  do  his  best  work  in  an 
atmosphere  of  friction  and  dissent.    It  is  as  impossi- 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    299 

ble  for  him  to  yield  a  position  which  he  has  taken,  and 
which  we  will  assume  he  believes  to  be  right,  as  it  is 
impossible  for  the  magnet  to  yield  the  needle  that  it 
has  attracted ;  therefore  he  adopts  the  only  course  for 
him — he  doesn't  enter  contests,  save  golf  with  his 
physician. 

His  cabinet  meetings  are  a  farce,  so  say  they  who 
have  nerer  attended  one  and  who  have  never  even 
spoken  to  a  cabinet  member.  He  selects  pygmies 
for  his  cabinet  and  for  his  aides  in  order  that  they  may 
proffer  him  no  advice,  resent  no  contradiction  or  pro- 
test indignities  to  their  offices.  This  in  face  of  the 
fact  that  he  and  his  cabinet  and  his  aides  have  con- 
ditioned the  only  miracle  of  modern  times,  namely, 
throwing  a  whole  country,  millions  of  whose  people 
were  adverse  to  war,  into  a  bellicose  state  which  was 
never  before  witnessed;  conditioning  and  transporting 
the  men  and  material  resources  of  that  country  across 
the  Atlantic  and  into  the  fighting  lines  at  a  crucial 
moment,  at  a  time  when  the  backs  of  the  Allies  were 
against  the  wall,  according  to  the  statements  of  their 
own  authorized  spokesmen;  who  succeeded  in  en- 
gendering in  the  composite  mind  of  the  American 
people  a  determination  to  win  the  war  that  was  more 
potent  than  men  or  weapons;  who  impregnated  the 
composite  soul  of  the  Allies  with  a  faith  that  the  world 
would  be  an  acceptable  abode  for  the  common  people 
once  the  enemy  was  crushed,  that  transcended  in  its 
intensity  the  faith  of  the  Christian  martyrs;  who  filled 
the  heart  of  every  statesman  of  the  Allied  nations  with 
a  hope  and  belief  that  there  was  within  him  the  master- 
ful mind  that  would  conduct  their  legions  to  victory 
and  salvation.    If  he  and  his  pygmies  accomplished 


300  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

this,  I  am  one  who  maintains  they  are  myrmidons  and 
giants.  But  they  didn't  do  it,  his  detractors  say.  The 
rejoinder  to  which  is:  "I  know,  a  little  bird  did  it!" 

If  we  had  entered  the  war  after  the  sinking  of  the 
Lusitania,  when  the  wise  men  of  the  West  say  we  should 
have  gone  in,  countless  lives  and  inestimable  expendi- 
tures would  have  been  spared.  Where  is  the  man  in 
the  United  States  of  America  to-day  who  has  revealed 
the  Jove-like  mind  that  entitles  him  to  make  such  sen- 
tient statement  ?  When  he  is  found,  how  can  he  possi- 
bly know?  What  delivery  of  thought,  idea,  concep- 
tion, execution  has  he  ever  made  that  entitles  him  to 
be  heard,  not  to  say  believed?  How  can  any  one 
possibly  know  what  would  have  been  the  result  of  our 
entrance  into  the  war  at  that  time?  If  any  one  thing 
is  responsible  for  America's  efficiency  in  the  war,  it 
is  that  it  had  the  American  people  fused  into  one  man 
with  one  mind,  determined  to  win  the  war.  I  am  sure 
that  I  encountered  nothing  in  the  United  States  in  my 
travel  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  and  back 
again  in  the  spring  of  1916  that  made  me  believe  that 
the  people  of  our  country  wanted  war,  or  that  there 
could  be  developed  in  them  at  that  time  a  sentiment 
which  would  make  for  such  internal  resistance  of  the 
people  as  they  displayed  in  the  spring  of  1917  and  con- 
tinued to  display  until  November  11,  1918.  I  can- 
not speak  from  personal  knowledge,  for  I  was  not  in 
the  United  States  during  the  year  of  its  war  effi- 
ciency, but  I  am  told  that  there  was  never  a  whisper  of 
disloyalty  or  a  syllable  of  disparagement  of  the  Presi- 
dent personally  during  that  time.  But  many  of  those 
who  were  silent  then  are  strident  now.  Their  enforced 
silence  has  enhanced  the  carry-power  of  their  voices, 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    301 

and  their  clamor  prevents  the  harmony  that  the  world 
is  seeking.  They  not  only  defame  Wilson,  but  they 
contend  that  the  part  we  played  in  the  war  has  been 
overestimated.  It  has  been,  but  not  by  us.  It  has 
been  evaluated  by  those  whom  it  was  our  most  sacred 
privilege  to  aid.  They  neither  minimize  our  efforts 
not  underestimate  our  accomplishment.  The  British 
know  that  they  were  steadfast;  the  French  realize  that 
they  were  resolute;  the  Italians  appreciate  that  they 
were  brave.  We  know  it,  but  that  does  not  prevent 
us  from  realizing  the  magnitude  of  the  role  we  played, 
and  the  man  who  was  responsible  for  it  is  the  man  to 
whom  the  world,  save  a  political  party  in  the  United 
States,  gives  thanks  and  expresses  appreciation.  His 
name  is  Woodrow  Wilson.  Americans  do  not  boast 
of  the  part  they  played  in  winning  the  war,  but  they 
do  encourage  that  which  is  far  worse  than  boasting — 
lying  about  it,  particularly  when  the  motive  for  such 
perversion  of  truth  is  deprecation  of  their  Chief 
Executive. 

He  is  an  idealist  and  theorist.  He  is  the  kind  of 
idealist  who  destroyed  the  Democratic  machine  in  the 
State  of  New  Jersey,  which  had  been  the  synonym  for 
corruption  in  politics  for  a  generation;  the  kind  of 
idealist  who  put  through  the  Underwood  Tariff  Bill, 
which  at  one  stroke  did  more  to  strangle  the  unnatural 
mother  of  privilege  than  any  measure  in  the  past 
twenty  years;  the  kind  of  idealist  who,  when  the  trans- 
port system  of  the  entire  country  threatened  to  be 
hopelessly  paralyzed  by  reason  of  the  determination 
of  the  railway  magnates  to  refuse  the  demands  of  loco- 
motive engineers  that  their  working-day  should  consist 
of  eight  hours,  sent  for  representatives  of  the  pluto- 


302  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

crats  and  the  proletariats  and  told  what  they  were  to 
do  and  when  they  were  to  do  it,  and  the  whole  civilized 
world  approved.  He  is  the  idealist  who  has  done 
more  to  make  our  government  a  republican  govern- 
ment representative  of  the  people  and  not  of  party 
bosses  than  any  one  in  the  memory  of  man.  He  is  the 
idealist  who  is  a  scholar,  a  thinker,  a  statesman,  a 
creator,  an  administrator,  and  a  man  of  vision.  More 
than  that,  he  is  an  efficiency  expert  in  the  realm  of 
world-ordering.  It  is  to  our  inestimable  misfortune 
that  his  personality  has  successfully  obstacled  his 
projects. 

His  secretary  of  war  is  a  failure;  his  secretary  of 
state  is  a  figurehead;  his  secretary  of  finance  is  his 
family,  and  so  on  ad  nauseam. 

I  am  not  a  competent  judge  whether  Mr.  Baker  has 
been  a  good  secretary  of  war  or  not,  but  I  am  sure  that 
he  is  not  so  unfit  as  Simon  Cameron  was.  No  one  has 
said  of  him:  " Cameron  is  utterly  ignorant  and  re- 
gardless of  the  course  of  things  and  probable  result. 
Selfish  and  openly  discourteous  to  the  President. 
Obnoxious  to  the  country.  Incapable  either  of  or- 
ganizing details  or  conceiving  and  executing  general 
plans"  (Nicolay).  President  Wilson  has  never  had  to 
say  of  any  of  his  cabinet  what  Lincoln  said  of  Seward : 
"The  point  and  pith  of  the  senators'  complaint  was 
that  they  charged  him,  Seward,  if  not  with  infidelity, 
with  indifference,  with  want  of  earnestness  in  the 
war,  with  want  of  sympathy  with  the  country,  and 
especially  with  a  too  great  ascendancy  and  control 
of  the  President  and  measures  of  administration. 
While  they  seemed  to  believe  in  my  honesty,  they 
also  appeared  to  think  that  when  I  had  in  me  any 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    303 

good  purpose  or  intention  Seward  tried  to  suck  it 
out  of  me  unperceived." 

So  far  as  I  know,  no  one  has  characterized  President 
Wilson's  mentality  as  "  painful  imbecility/'  as  Stan- 
ton characterized  Lincoln  a  few  months  before  the 
latter  appointed  him  secretary  of  war. 

He  has  been  accused  of  not  surrounding  himself 
with  the  ablest  men  of  his  party  or  of  the  country, 
in  the  conduct  of  the  affairs  of  the  nation  during  the 
period  when  the  country  was  emerging  from  the  posi- 
tion of  aloofness  from  world  politics  which  it  had  main- 
tained from  the  time  Washington  warned  of  the  danger 
of  "entangling  foreign  alliances."  But  it  does  not 
convince  me  that  a  man  is  not  competent  to  do  the 
job  that  the  President  has  given  him  because  his  train- 
ing has  been  as  a  stockbroker  and  his  activities  on  the 
bear  side  of  the  market.  That  is  not  the  kind  of  train- 
ing that  one  would  give  his  son  whom  he  wished  to  see 
become  a  statesman,  but  it  occurs  to  me  that  the 
task  entrusted  to  him  may  be  one  which  a  statesman 
is  not  best  fitted  to  handle.  It  may  be  a  job  that  a 
man  with  the  mentality  and  training  and  moral  pos- 
sessions that  he  selected  could  do  better  than  any  one 
else. 

What  earnest  of  superior  constructive,  intellectual 
powers  has  any  public  man  in  the  United  States  dis- 
played that  justifies  self-constituted  critics  in  saying 
that  the  men  selected  by  President  Wilson  are  not 
their  peers  ?  It  is  universally  admitted  that  President 
Wilson  has  a  more  masterful  and  comprehensive  grasp 
of  politics  in  America,  using  that  word  in  its  conven- 
tional, every-day  sense  and  meaning,  particularly  a 
familiarity  with  bosses  and  the  " machine,"  than  any 


304  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

President  ever  had.  No  one  denies  his  statesmanship. 
He  is,  therefore,  a  competent  judge  of  who  was  best 
fitted  to  do  the  work  which  it  was  necessary  to  do  in 
order  that  the  programme  which  he  formulated  for  the 
benefit  of  humanity  might  be  executed,  and  particularly 
that  the  yoke  might  be  lifted  from  the  necks  of  the 
oppressed  nations  and  that  another  world  calamity  in 
the  shape  of  war  might  be  avoided.  His  choice  of  aides 
and  representatives  was  not  acceptable  to  men  who 
put  party  interests  before  public  interests,  who  are 
willing  to  sacrifice  world  weal  for  worldly  advance- 
ment, and  who  lash  themselves  into  a  frenzied  state 
by  repetition  of  the  admonitions  of  Washington  or 
Monroe.  It  does  not  detract  from  the  glory  of  the 
father  of  his  country,  or  from  the  lustre  of  great 
interpreters  of  national  law,  to  say  that  the  principles 
that  they  enunciated  and  the  practices  that  they  initi- 
ated centuries  ago  are  not  necessarily  those  that  should 
guide  us  now.  It  would  be  just  as  legitimate  to  say 
that  physicians  should  follow  the  teachings  of  Hippoc- 
rates or  Galen,  because  the  one  was  the  father  of  medi- 
cine and  the  other  its  greatest  expositor,  as  it  would 
to  say  that  we  must  follow  slavishly  the  teachings  of 
Washington  and  Monroe. 

That  the  American  Peace  Commission  did  not  con- 
tain men  of  the  mental  caliber  of  Mr.  Root  or  Mr. 
Lodge,  that  the  reservoirs  of  expert  knowledge  were 
not  drained  and  taken  to  Paris,  that  our  Commission 
as  a  whole  was  less  sophisticated,  less  perceptive  and 
apperceptive,  than  that  of  Great  Britain,  let  us  say,  is 
to  be  regretted,  just  as  we  regret  the  effects  of  some 
fallacious  judgment  or  specious  decision  of  our  youth. 
There  were  ways  of  offsetting  them,  however,  and  in 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    305 

this  particular  instance  Congress  was  the  way.  The 
President  did  not  go  beyond  his  prerogative  in  selecting 
the  Peace  Commission.  The  public  elected  him  to 
make  these  selections,  as  well  as  to  do  other  things. 
If  the  people  do  not  want  that  such  selection  should 
be  his  privilege  and  power,  they  have  only  to  say  it  at 
the  polls.  The  Eighteenth  Amendment  was  not  diffi- 
cult of  accomplishment.  Perhaps  time  will  show  that 
Mr.  Wilson  " guessed  right"  oftener  in  the  selection  of 
his  cabinet  than  any  predecessor. 

Mr.  Josephus  Daniels  was  the  target  of  scorn  and 
the  butt  of  ridicule  from  the  time  he  went  into  the 
cabinet  until  he  began  to  make  preparations  for  war, 
but  the  rumor  has  reached  me  that  his  efforts  were 
fairly  satisfactory  to  the  hypercritical  American  pub- 
lic. The  President's  critics  are  jealous  of  the  prodig- 
ious powers  which  an  unauthorized  representative  of 
the  government  has  in  the  affairs  of  the  country,  and 
they  do  not  understand  why,  if  he  is  the  paragon  of 
virtue  that  his  position  seems  to  indicate  he  is,  the 
President  did  not  put  him  on  the  commission.  But 
again  I  say  the  President  knows  his  limitations  and 
the  public  has  only  recently  discovered  them.  He 
may  short-circuit  some  of  them  by  means  of  Colonel 
House.  He  may  find  him  "  great  in  counsel  and 
mighty  in  work/'  or  he  may  have  habituated  himself 
to  buy  only  gold  that  he  has  tried  in  the  fire  himself. 
It  is  his  privilege  and  no  one  can  gainsay  it. 

He  is  silent  and  ungetatable.  Silence  has  been  con- 
sidered a  sign  of  strength  in  man  since  the  days  of 
Hammurabi,  and  the  greater  the  man  the  more  soli- 
tary he  is.  If  Mr.  Wilson  were  twice  as  great,  even 
Mr.  Tumulty  would  not  be  allowed  to  see  him ! 


306  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

Wilson  has  been  accused  of  pilfering  his  idea  of  the 
League  of  Nations  from  the  Due  de  Sully  and  from 
the  Abbe*  of  Saint  Pierre.  Enemies  animated  by 
malice  and  fired  by  envy  have  striven  to  show  that 
the  famous  fourteen  statements  or  principles  were  his 
only  by  the  right  of  possession  or  enunciation;  that  he 
resurrected  the  doctrines  of  Mazzini,  dressed  them 
up  and  paraded  them  as  his  own.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  be  patient  with  such  critics  if  one  did  not  know  the 
history  of  epoch-making  events  in  the  world's  progress. 
In  truth,  the  public  is  resentful  that  it  was  not  con- 
sulted. It  is  umbraged  that  it  was  not  allowed  to 
make  suggestions.  It  is  spiteful  because  it  was  treated 
with  contempt.  The  public  manifested  the  same 
quality  of  spleen  toward  Lincoln,  only  the  quantity 
was  greater.  In  brief,  the  public  professes  not  to 
have  any  confidence  in  Mr.  Wilson's  wisdom,  and  this 
in  face  of  the  fact  that  up  to  date  he  has  displayed 
more  wisdom  than  all  the  Solons  in  America  combined, 
and  I  can  say  this  the  more  unprejudicedly  as  a  Repub- 
lican than  I  could  if  I  were  a  member  of  the  party  that 
elected  Mr.  Wilson. 

Mr.  Wilson  is  disliked  for  emotional,  not  intellectual, 
reasons.  Although  he  has  probably  done  more  to 
engrave  the  graving  upon  the  stone  that  will  remove 
the  iniquity  of  the  land  than  any  man  who  has  ever 
lived,  "we  don't  like'*  him.  There  must  be  some 
good  reason  for  this  other  than  envy,  jealousy,  and 
resentment,  and  I  propose  to  inquire  for  these  reasons 
in  Mr.  Wilson's  emotional  make-up. 

Whether  I  "like"  Mr.  Wilson  or  not  does  not  enter 
into  it.  I  never  knew  Pascal  or  Voltaire  or  Benjamin 
Franklin,  and  still  I  am  sure  I  could  make  a  statement 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    307 

of  their  qualities  and  possessions  that  would  elicit  com- 
mendation from  one  who  had  known  them.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  personal  contact  with  men  from  whose 
activities  the  world  dates  epochs  is  not  conducive  to 
personal  liking.  I  cannot  fancy  liking  Rousseau.  I 
am  sure  I  should  not  have  liked  Voltaire.  I  can  even 
understand  why  Lincoln  was  despised  and  scoffed  at 
by  his  contemporaries.  I  am  one  of  those  who  believe 
Mr.  Wilson  is  a  great  man,  but  I  am  not  concerned  to 
convince  others  of  it.  I  am  concerned  alone  to  ex- 
plain why  he  is  not  beloved  of  the  people. 

The  esteem  or  disesteem  in  which  Mr.  Wilson  is 
held  in  this  country  is  due  to  his  personality,  and  this 
does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  enigmatic.  He  has  the 
mind  of  a  Jove  but  the  heart  of  a  batrachian.  It  is  to 
the  former  that  he  owed  his  rise,  it  is  the  latter  that 
conditioned  his  fall.  If  we  were  not  satisfied  to  have 
such  a  man  sail  our  ship  of  state  in  smooth  as  well  as 
in  turbulent  seas,  in  calm  and  in  tornado,  we  had  op- 
portunity to  drop  him  from  the  bridge  gracefully  in 
1916.  Although  his  possessions  and  deficits  were  not 
so  universally  known  then  as  now,  still  they  were  gen- 
erally recognized  and  widely  discussed.  Instead  of 
dropping  our  pilot  we  re-elected  him.  This  could  only 
be  construed  by  him  as  approval  of  his  conduct.  When 
he  continued  to  display  his  inherent  qualities  he  ex- 
cited our  ire.  We  called  him  names  and  neither  for- 
gave nor  wished  to  forgive  him. 

Perhaps  no  one  has  ever  had  the  opportunity  to  fix 
his  position  so  indestructibly  at  the  apogee  of  human 
accomplishment  by  permitting  himself  kindly  indul- 
dences  or  what  is  commonly  called  human  feelings  as 
Woodrow  Wilson  had.    If  when  Roosevelt  sought  to 


308  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

raise  a  regiment  or  division  to  take  to  France  the 
President  had  been  sympathetic  to  the  project  and 
had  wiped  out  with  a  stroke  of  the  pen  the  obvious 
difficulties  that  stood  in  the  way  of  such  project,  it 
would  have  thrilled  the  people  of  this  country  of  every 
color,  or  every  complexion,  political  and  somatic,  as 
nothing  else  could  possibly  do.  It  would  not  have 
taken  from  his  prestige  as  commander-in-chief  of  the 
army  one  jot  or  tittle,  nor  would  it  have  interfered  in 
the  smallest  way  with  the  disciplinary  unity  which  is 
the  vital  spark  of  the  army. 

If  he  had  said  of  General  Leonard  Wood,  "Father, 
forgive  him,  for  he  kneweth  not  that  which  he  did," 
and  had  the  emotional  exaltation  which  every  one  has 
when  he  forgives  an  enemy,  and  given  him  a  com- 
mand to  which  his  past  performances  entitled  him,  a 
few  soreheads  and  soulless  pygmies  wearing  the  uni- 
form of  the  United  States  Army  and  their  congressional 
wire-pullers  might  have  resentedTit,  but  the  people  by 
and  large  would  have  said:  "Our  President  is  a  big 
man:  he  is  magnanimous,  he  is  a  man  who  walks 
in  the  pathway  of  the  Lord,  he  forgives  his  enemies." 
General  Wood  would  have  received  the  recompense  for 
having  prepared  the  way  for  the  selective  draft  that 
he  deserved,  for  even  though  he  did  it  in  a  tactless 
and  tasteless  way,  he  made  a  contribution  of  incal- 
culable value  to  the  victory  of  our  arms.  Had  he 
sent  for  the  chairman  of  the  committee  on  foreign 
affairs  and  conferred  with  him  on  the  selection  of 
the  Peace  Conference  personnel,  had  he  shown  some 
signs  of  deference  to  that  committee,  had  he  dis- 
cussed with  them  his  peace  plan  proposals  and  taken 
note  of  their  suggestions,  modifying  his  proposals  in 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    309 

accordance  with  their  convictions  when  to  do  so  did 
not  yield  a  fundamental  point,  we  should  not  have 
been  on  the  horns  of  the  dilemma  we  were  for  a  year 
following  the  President's  last  return  from  Paris,  and 
the  world  would  have  been  spared  discomfiture — yea, 
even  agony. 

Mr.  Wilson  knows  the  rules  of  the  game,  but  he 
does  not  know  how  to  play  fair.  He  knows  that  con- 
tests and  strife  elicit  his  most  deforming  qualities — in- 
tolerance, arrogance,  and  emotional  sterility;  hence  he 
hedges  himself  about  in  every  possible  way  to  avoid 
them.  He  knows  that  the  sure  way  for  him  is  to  play 
the  game  alone. 

Woodrow  Wilson  does  not  love  his  fellow  men.  He 
loves  them  in  the  abstract,  but  not  in  the  flesh.  He  is 
concerned  with  their  fate,  their  destiny,  their  travail 
en  masse,  but  the  predicaments,  perplexities,  and  pros- 
trations of  the  individual  or  groups  of  individuals 
make  no  appeal  to  him.  He  does  not  refresh  his  soul 
by  bathing  it  daily  in  the  milk  of  human  kindness. 
He  says  with  his  lips  that  he  loves  his  fellow  men,  but 
there  is  no  accompanying  emotional  glow,  none  of  the 
somatic  or  spiritual  accompaniments  which  are  the 
normal  ancillae  of  love's  display.  Hence  he  does  not 
respect  their  convictions  when  they  are  opposed  to  his 
own,  he  does  not  value  their  counsels.  His  determina- 
tion to  put  things  through  in  the  way  he  has  con- 
vinced himself  they  should  be  put  through  is  not  sus- 
ceptible to  change  from  influences  that  originate 
without  his  own  mind.  He  has  made  many  false 
steps,  but  none  of  them  so  conditioned  the  fall  from  the 
exalted  position  the  world  had  given  to  him  as  his  de- 
termination to  go  to  Paris  and  represent  this  country 


310  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

at  the  Peace  Conference.  If  one  may  judge  what  the 
verdict  of  all  the  voters  in  this  country  would  have 
been,  had  the  question  of  his  going  been  submitted  to 
them,  from  the  expressions  of  opinion  of  those  one 
encounters  in  his  daily  life,  it  would  be  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  three-fourths  of  the  voters  would  say 
he  should  not  have  gone.  I  think  I  may  say  truthfully 
that  I  never  encountered  a  person  who  approved  his 
decision.  It  is  possible  that  his  entourage  or  cabinet 
and  counsellors  did  not  contain  a  daring  soul  who  vol- 
unteered such  advice,  but  it  is  incredible  that  both 
they  and  the  President  did  not  sense  the  judgment  of 
their  countrymen  as  it  was  reflected  in  the  newspapers. 
However,  it  is  likely  that  he  would  have  gone  had  he 
known  that  the  majority  of  the  voters  of  this  country 
were  opposed  to  it. 

In  contact  with  people  he  gives  himself  the  air  of 
listening  with  deference  and  indeed  of  being  beholden 
to  judgment  and  opinion,  but  in  reality  it  is  an  artifice 
which  he  puts  off  when  he  returns  to  the  dispensing 
centre  of  the  word  and  of  the  law  just  as  he  puts  off 
his  gloves  and  his  hat.  Nothing  is  so  illustrative  of 
this  unwillingness  to  heed  counsel  emanating  from 
authority  and  given  wholly  for  his  benefit  as  his  con- 
duct toward  his  physician  during  the  trip  around  the 
country  in  September,  1919.  The  newspaper  repre- 
sentatives who  accompanied  him  say  that  he  had  often 
severe  and  protracted  headache,  was  frequently  ner- 
vous and  irritable,  sometimes  dizzy,  and  always  looked 
ill.  These  symptoms,  conjoined  with  the  fact  that  for 
a  long  time  he  had  high  blood  pressure,  were  danger 
signals  which  no  physician  would  dare  neglect.  It  is 
legitimate  to  infer  that  his  physician  apprised  him  and 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    311 

counselled  him  accordingly.  Despite  it  Mr.  Wilson 
persisted,  until  nature  exacted  the  penalty  and  by  so 
doing  he  jeopardized  his  own  life  and  seriously  disor- 
dered the  equilibrium  of  affairs  of  the  country.  Indeed, 
obstinacy  is  one  of  his  most  maiming  characteristics. 

The  President  attempts  to  mask  with  facial  urbanity 
and  a  smile  in  verbal  contact  with  people,  and  with  the 
subjunctive  mood  in  written  contact,  his  third  most 
deforming  defect  of  character,  namely,  his  inability 
to  enter  into  a  contest  of  any  sort  in  which  there  is 
strife  without  revealing  his  obsession  to  win,  his  emo- 
tional frigidity,  his  lack  of  love  for  his  fellow  men. 
These  explain  why  he  did  not  win  out  to  a  larger  de- 
gree in  Paris,  and  why  he  did  not  win  out  with  Con- 
gress. When  he  attempts  to  play  such  game  his  arti- 
ficed  civility,  cordiality,  amiability  are  so  discordant 
with  the  real  man  that  they  become  as  offensive  as 
affectations  of  manner  or  speech  always  are,  and  in- 
stead of  placating  the  individual  toward  whom  they 
are  manifest,  or  facilitating  a  modus  vivendi,  they 
offend  and  make  rapport  with  him  impossible. 

Probably  nothing  would  strike  Mr.  Wilson's  in- 
timates as  so  wholly  untrue  as  the  statement  that 
he  is  cruel,  yet,  nevertheless,  I  feel  convinced  that  there 
is  much  latent  cruelty  in  his  make-up,  and  that  every 
now  and  then  he  is  powerless  to  inhibit  it.  He  was 
undoubtedly  wholly  within  his  rights  in  dismissing 
Mr.  Lansing  from  his  cabinet,  but  the  way  in  which 
he  did  it  constitutes  refinement  of  cruelty.  He  may 
have  had  a  contempt  for  him  because  he  had  not  in- 
sisted on  playing  first  fiddle  in  Mr.  Wilson's  orchestra, 
the  part  for  which  he  was  engaged,  but  that  did  not 
justify  Mr.  Wilson  in  flaying  him  publicly  because  he 


312  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

attempted  to  keep  the  orchestra  together  and  tuned 
up  as  it  were  during  Mr.  Wilson's  illness. 

Selfishness  is  another  conspicuous  deforming  trait 
of  the  President.  He  is  more  selfish  than  cruel.  Un- 
doubtedly his  friends  can  point  to  many  acts  of  gener- 
osity that  deny  the  allegation.  Some  of  the  most 
selfish  people  in  the  world  give  freely  of  their  counsel, 
money,  and  time.  Selfishness  and  miserliness  are  not 
interchangeable  terms.  He  is  the  summation  of  selfish- 
ness because  he  puts  his  decisions  and  determinations 
above  those  of  any  or  all  others.  It  matters  not  who 
the  others  may  be.  Until  some  one  comes  forward 
to  show  that  he  has  ever  been  known  to  yield  his 
judgments  and  positions  to  those  of  others  I  must  hold 
to  this  view.  He  is  ungenerous  of  sentiment  and  unfair 
by  implication.  Nothing  better  exemplifies  his  un- 
generosity  than  his  refusal  to  appear  before  the  Senate 
or  a  committee  of  them  previous  to  his  return  to  Paris 
after  his  visit  here  and  say  to  them  that  he  had  de- 
termined to  incorporate  all  their  suggestions  in  the 
Treaty  and  in  the  Covenant.  He  did  incorporate 
them,  but  he  did  not  give  the  Senate  the  satisfaction 
of  telling  them  that  he  was  going  to  do  so  or  that  the 
instrument  would  be  improved  by  so  doing.  It  has 
been  said  of  him  that  he  is  the  shrewdest  politician 
who  has  been  in  the  presidential  chair  in  the  memory 
of  man.  That  is  a  euphemistic  way  of  saying  he  knows 
mob  psychology  and  individual  weakness,  but  his  rep- 
utation in  this  respect  has  been  injured  by  his  failure 
to  be  generous  and  gracious  to  Congress. 

The  receptive  side  of  his  nature  is  neither  sensitive 
nor  intuitive,  nor  is  his  reactive  side  productive  or 
creative.     He  is  merely  ratiocinative  and  constructive, 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    313 

consciously  excogitative  and  inventive.  In  other 
words,  he  has  talent,  not  genius.  Genius  does  what  it 
must,  talent  what  it  can.  The  man  of  genius  does 
that  which  no  one  else  can  do.  His  work  is  the  essen- 
tial and  unique  expression  of  himself.  He  does  it  with- 
out being  aware  how  he  does  it.  It  is  as  much  an  in- 
tegral part  of  him  as  the  pitch  of  his  voice  and  his 
unconscious  manner.  He  is  conscious  only  of  the 
throes  of  productive  travail;  of  the  antecedents  of  his 
creation  he  is  ignorant.  Many  artists  essay  to  paint 
their  own  portraits  and  many  succeed  in  portraying 
themselves  spiritually  and  somatically  as  no  one  else 
can.  Mr.  Wilson  did  with  words  for  himself  in  describ- 
ing Jefferson  Davis  what  artists  do  with  pigments. 

"What  he  did  lack  was  wisdom  in  dealing  with  men, 
willingness  to  take  the  judgment  of  others  in  critical 
matters  of  business,  the  instinct  which  recognizes 
ability  in  others  and  trusts  it  to  the  utmost  to  play 
its  independent  part.  He  too  much  loved  to  rule,  had 
too  overweening  confidence  in  himself,  and  took  leave 
to  act  as  if  he  understood  much  better  than  those  who 
were  in  actual  command  what  should  be  done  in  the 
field.  He  let  prejudice  and  his  own  wilful  judgment 
dictate  to  him.  ...  He  sought  to  control  too  many 
things  with  too  feminine  a  jealousy  of  any  rivalry  in 
authority." 

True,  too  true;  but  not  nearly  so  true  of  Jefferson 
Davis  as  of  Woodrow  Wilson.  Posterity  profited  by 
the  limitations  of  the  former,  and  we  are  paying  and 
mankind  will  continue  to  pay  for  those  of  the  latter. 

Mr.  Wilson  is  a  brilliant,  calculating,  and  vindictive 
man:  brilliant  in  conception,  calculating  in  motive, 
and  vindictive  in  execution.    From  the  time  of  his 


314  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

youth  he  instructed  himself  to  great  purpose.  He  has 
made  a  careful  review  and  digest  of  the  world's  his- 
tory and  he  has  attempted  to  survey  the  tractless 
forests  and  untrodden  deserts  of  the  future.  From 
the  activities  in  the  former  fields  he  has  evolved  a  plan 
which  he  believes  will  make  the  latter  a  favorable  place 
for  the  human  race  to  display  its  activities,  and  he  has 
striven  to  put  that  plan  into  practice.  He  concedes 
that  others  have  looked  backward  with  as  compre- 
hensive an  eye  as  his  own;  he  grants  that  others  have 
had  visions  of  the  future  that  are  even  more  penetrating 
than  his  own;  but  he  has  the  opportunity  to  try  out 
his  plan,  and  they  have  not,  and  he  is  unwilling  to  take 
them  into  partnership  in  the  development  of  the  claim 
that  he  has  staked  out.  He  cannot  do  it.  It  is  one  of 
his  emotional  limitations.  Were  he  generous,  kindly, 
and  humble  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  his  like  in  the 
flesh  or  in  history.  He  must  be  reconciled  to  the 
frowns  of  his  contemporaries,  the  disparagements  of 
his  fellows,  and  the  scorn  of  those  who  have  been 
scorned  by  him.  The  world  has  always  made  the 
possessor  of  limitations  pay  the  penalty.  In  his  hour 
of  hurt,  if  sensitiveness  adequate  to  feel  is  still  vouch- 
safed him,  he  may  assuage  the  pain  with  the  knowledge 
that  posterity  will  judge  him  by  his  intellectual  posses- 
sions, not  by  his  emotional  deficit. 

If  we  are  not  satisfied  with  his  conduct  as  chief  magis- 
trate we  must  do  one  of  two  things.  We  must  either 
curtail  the  powers  of  future  presidents,  or  we  must  se- 
lect presidents  for  their  qualities  of  heart  as  well  as 
mind.  Perhaps  future  candidates  for  the  presidency 
should  be  submitted  to  psychological  tests  to  determine 
their  intellectual  and  emotional  coefficients.     Those 


THE  EAGLE  CHANGES  HIS  PERCH    315 

who  do  not  measure  up  to  a  certain  standard  shall  be 
eliminated. 

One  of  the  most  unsurmountable  obstacles  to  ad- 
vancement of  an  officer  in  the  army  or  navy  is  an  anno- 
tation of  his  record  by  a  superior  officer  as  "  tempera- 
mentally unfit. "  From  the  day  that  appears  under- 
neath his  pedigree  there  is  scarcely  any  power  that  can 
advance  him.  It  may  be  that  Woodrow  Wilson  has 
been  " temperamentally  unfit"  to  be  President  of  the 
United  States,  but  for  any  one  to  say  that  he  has  been 
intellectually  unfit  for  that  office  is  to  utter  an  ab- 
surdity and  an  untruth.  Had  he  been  baptized  in  the 
waters  of  humility,  had  his  parents  or  his  pedagogues 
inoculated  him  with  the  vaccine  of  modesty,  had  he 
during  the  years  of  his  spiritual  growth  come  under  the 
leavening  influence  of  love  of  humanity,  had  he  by 
taking  thought  been  able  to  develop  what  are  consid- 
ered " human  qualities," — kindliness,  sympathy,  and 
reverence  for  others, — had  he  included  in  his  matutinal 
prayers,  "Let  me  accomplish,  not  by  might,  nor  by 
power,  but  by  spirit,"  had  he  had  Lincoln's  heart  and 
his  own  brain,  he  would  be,  not  one  of  the  greatest  men 
that  America  has  produced,  he  might  be  the  greatest. 
As  it  is,  his  emotional  limitations  have  thwarted  his 
career  and  dwarfed  his  spiritual  stature.  The  Ameri- 
can people  speak  of  this  as  his  fault.  It  is  in  reality 
his  misfortune.  We  laugh  at  the  child  who  cries  when 
she  finds  that  her  doll,  with  outward  appearance  of 
pulchritude,  is  filled  with  sawdust,  but  we  wail  when  we 
find  our  gods  are  only  human,  and  we  resent  it  when 
our  humans  err. 

Woodrow  Wilson  is  better  liked  by  the  people  of 
the  world  to-day  than  any  prophet  or  reformer  the 


316  IDLING  IN  ITALY 

world  has  ever  had.  He  has  fewer  enemies  and  fewer 
detractors.  He  should  consider  himself  particularly- 
fortunate,  for  he  owes  his  life  to  it,  that  he  lives  in 
the  twentieth  century.  It  is  only  a  century  or  two 
ago,  in  reality,  that  they  gave  up  burning  at  the 
stake  prophets  and  reformers,  and  it  is  only  a  few  dec- 
ades ago  that  they  allowed  them  to  remain  in  their 
native  land  or  even  to  visit  it.  Critics  and  self- 
constituted  judges  of  his  conduct  will  continue  to  pour 
their  vials  of  wrath  upon  his  head  and  purge  themselves 
of  their  contempt  for  him,  but  these  are  the  fertilizers 
of  his  intellectual  stature. 

Woodrow  Wilson  has  had  meted  out  to  him  more 
considerate  and  respectful  consideration  than  any  man 
who  originated  stirring  impulse  that  has  led  to  world 
renovation.  There  is  a  choice  between  calumniation 
and  crucifixion. 


)i!A^u>^^^^r-  3  7 


f2>K^e^0 


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U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 

llll  II 1 1  III  I  llll  II 


1  Pill 

iji 

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